Introduction
to the Course
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The three main
philosophies of India were developed thousands of
years ago. They are known as Sankhya, Yoga,
and Vedanta. Sankhya explains
why one should reject as delusive everything he
perceives through the senses, and why he should
seek a higher, non-material reality. Yoga,
the second in the series, is the supreme science,
for it enables one to experience truth for himself.
And Vedanta explains, insofar as human
reason can grasp it, the nature of that Truth.
These philosophies
are best taught sequentially. People should understand,
first, their need to banish delusion from their
consciousness in comprehending that delusion is
the source of all life’s pain, uncertainty,
and suffering. When they recognize their need to
live by higher principles, they develop the willingness
to undergo the discipline necessary for attaining
a higher understanding. Yoga, for that
reason, comes second in the series.
Beyond Yoga
practice there lies the wisdom of Vedanta.
One may ask why wisdom needs to be explained if
it can be realized personally. The answer is that
Vedanta shows where all true spiritual
practices lead, lest people be tempted to stray
off the trail to the top of the mountain by reaffirming
their egos and developing, for example, the eight
siddhis or spiritual powers. The true purpose
of yoga is to bring one to the highest state of
Self-realization. The Vedanta teachings
help to keep one’s aspirations directed toward
that goal.
There is a
story my Guru enjoyed telling about a great yogi
named Baba Gorakhnath, whose life span was three
hundred years. In that long time, Baba Gorakhnath
developed all the yogic siddhis. When it
was time for him at last to leave his body, he wanted
to find someone highly advanced enough to receive
those powers.
Gazing through
the spiritual eye, he saw a young man seated by
the river Ganges in deep meditation. Here, he realized,
was a fit person to receive his siddhis. He materialized
before the young yogi and announced, “I am
Baba Gorakhnath.” If he, with his high renown,
expected a gasp of amazement from the young man,
he was disappointed. The younger one only looked
at him with an expression of calm inquiry.
The old yogi
continued, “I have seen that the time has
come for me to leave my body. Over many years of
spiritual practice I have perfected the eight yogic
siddhis. Today I am here to confer them
upon you, for I have seen in meditation that you
are worthy of them.”
Baba Gorakhnath,
holding in his hand eight pellets of mud, continued:
“I have infused these pellets with my yogic
powers. Meditate holding them in your right hand,
and their powers will be infused into you.”
The young yogi
took them in his right hand, looked at them for
a moment, then asked, “Are these mine to do
with as I choose?”
“Of course!”
the other replied. “I have given them to you.
They are yours.”
Thereupon,
the young man flung all eight pellets into the river.
“What
have you done!” cried the other in horror.
“It took me three hundred years to develop
those powers. You have thrown away my life work!”
The young yogi
gazed at him with still eyes and answered, “In
delusion yet, Baba Gorakhnath?”
His words vibrated
with divine realization. The ancient yogi was suddenly
wakened from his lifelong fascination with powers.
“How
can I thank you?” he cried. “I can do
so only by leaving my body in a state of perfect
freedom!” He sat down on the sand forthwith,
entered into deep meditation, and left his body,
a fully liberated soul.
The traditional
scripture of yoga is Patanjali’s Yoga
Sutras, or aphorisms. Those sutras begin with
a word that has probably puzzled many students over
the years: “Now [we come to] the
study of Yoga.” Why did he insert that seemingly
unnecessary word, now, in that aphorism? The answer
is that, if one would comprehend the need for spiritual
attainment, he must first understand the message
of Sankhya which explains the nature of
delusion. Armed with that understanding, one is
ready to pursue in earnest the science of yoga.
Yoga gives
the “how to” of the spiritual path.
Since this is an inward journey, the main emphasis
of yoga is on withdrawing one’s consciousness
from the body and centering it in the spine. Yoga
practice enables one to raise his consciousness
to the highest level of Self-realization.
Many obstacles
confront one as he makes this inward journey. The
first obstacle is the fact that human understanding
is limited to the information it receives from the
senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.
Man’s understanding is limited, next, by reason’s
fumbling attempts to process that information.
From birth
onward, the human being sees the world, as revealed
to him through the senses, as the only reality.
Even before birth, one’s energy flows outward
from his inmost center to create the embryo. At
birth, on entering this world, his energy must immediately
be engaged outwardly to sustain his body by breathing,
eating, and keeping his muscles activated.
Growing children
relate ever more, and more specifically,
to the world around them. This need to do so takes
precedence over every other consideration, including
the soul’s call within to remember the eternal,
ever-blissful reality.
We have entered,
without realizing it, into a house of mirrors. Everything
we see and experience in the world is only a reflection
of our own awareness. We see, first, only what we
are capable of seeing. We understand only what we
are capable of understanding. Happiness, which everyone
craves, is reflected back to us, only, from the
surrounding world: we project it outwardly from
our center. If we lack inner joy, we will find not
a hint of it outside. Melodies of a lost happiness
pluck on our heartstrings, but sound faint and far
away until we recognize that their source is ever
inside ourselves.
It is only
in our egos that we experience happiness or sadness.
What is the ego—ahankara
is the Sanskrit word—anyway? It is not our
true self. Paramhansa Yogananda defined ego as
the soul identified with the body. Man reaches
out to the world through his senses, trying ever
to grasp the joy which he intuits to be his birthright.
Ego-consciousness is a delusion. It imprisons joy
instead of letting it flow out toward infinity.
Man’s every thought and gesture affirms his
own separate individuality to be his reality. He
fails to realize how cramped his self-identity becomes,
in consequence. Aspirations that arise from ego-consciousness
seize possession of his mind. “I am this body,”
he affirms. “I am a man. I am a woman.”
And so it goes on.
As the child
grows, it develops in the awareness of its surroundings.
If, when the person grows to adulthood, he clings
to self-involvement, the adult may remain immature.
A child’s self-preoccupation is natural—even
necessary. It is its way of getting a firm purchase
on outer realities, even as a person learning to
walk on a tightrope must be exaggeratedly aware
of his every movement. In an adult, however, excessive
self-preoccupation betrays childishness. In exaggerated
cases, indeed, such self-preoccupation may even
lead to madness. The awareness of the super-egotist
is expansive only insofar as it reaches out to take
what he can for himself. He wants more and more
wealth, more and more power, more and more self-importance,
indifferent to the needs and interests of others.
Thus, we see
that there are two outward directions in which the
ego can grow: toward mature acceptance of objective
realities; or toward a desire for possession and
dominion over others.
Expanding sympathy
helps the ego to be aware of its subtle identity
with other people and with the universe. One’s
own happiness, in consequence, expands exponentially.
If, on the other hand, the ego grows more self-centered,
this “expansion” of self-consciousness
becomes suffocating. Any happiness one experiences
shrinks, in time, to virtual nonexistence. Selfish
people imagine that the more they possess, the happier
they will be. This is a delusion: What they accomplish
is quite the opposite, for they squeeze their ever-dwindling
happiness in a tightening grip that becomes even
physically painful at last, owing to the tension
that they build up in themselves.
When the ego’s
sympathy for others expands, and it grows in appreciation
for the world around it, it relaxes from exaggerated
consciousness of its body, and expands effortlessly
into ever-clearer awareness of the indwelling soul.
Ego—the soul, as I said earlier, identified
with the body—discovers its identity, in this
case, with the Infinite Spirit. One sees one’s
self no longer as the little self (with a small
s), but as identified with the infinite
Self (written with a large S.)
There is another
way that self-awareness can grow: not by outward
expansion, but by withdrawing the energy altogether
from outward consciousness. One realizes, thus,
that the essence of life is unitive. All things,
so distinct in appearance from one another, are
then realized to be expressions of the one, changeless
reality.
It is possible
to grow spiritually in both ways: by sympathetic
expansion into a sense of one’s relationship
with the world; and, alternatively, by withdrawing
inwardly and realizing all reality as a manifestation
in consciousness of the one, infinite Self. Both
directions are necessary for those who want to practice
yoga most effectively. The hermit-yogi, seeking
only to withdraw from outwardness, may find himself
not expanding at all, but diminishing, rather, in
his self-involvement.
Those who are
highly enough realized to be in breathless samadhi
for indefinite periods at a time no longer need
to balance their inward union with God by outward
service. For those who are not so highly realized,
however, it is important to serve outwardly as well
as inwardly—the inward service being a self-offering
of their whole existence into the ocean of divine
love. One’s life should be balanced, inwardly
and outwardly. If he withdraws too unilaterally
from the world, he may find himself excluding God
in creation from his sympathies. Yet the world,
too, is a manifestation of God and, therefore, of
His love. God’s presence is everywhere. To
despise creation is self-limiting. The yogi should
behold all things as part of the one, infinite Self.
Even evil people are struggling, albeit ignorantly
at present, to find happiness, which they will realize
at last is their own, true nature.
Everything
one does has a certain potential, however slight,
for danger. People have died from slipping in their
bathtubs! The danger on the path of meditation is
that the yogi may become absorbed, not in his true
Self, but in his little ego. Such a person becomes
ego-centered instead of God-centered. This is why
devotion to God as a separate Reality from oneself
is advised even in the Vedanta teachings. An “I-Thou”
relationship helps one to avoid the trap, yawning
wide for the unwary, of identifying their egos with
the Infinite Self. Adi Swami Shankaracharya himself,
the supreme advaitin or non-dualist, wrote poems
expressing adoration to the Divine Mother.
A serious problem
for those who seek fulfillment only in their little
egos, rejecting completely their true identify with
the Infinite Self in which ego-consciousness disappears,
is that they lose touch with true principles. Such
a person inclines to take more and more whatever
he can from others, forgetting that he shares with
all beings the same, universal reality.
Most people,
in fact, are not aware that a non-material reality
exists. The world calls to them in silvery, siren
tones: “Come! Make your own pleasure your
entire reality!” When suffering comes to them—as
it must in this world of duality—they have
no notion of where to turn for help—unless
it be some “professional” who is powerless
to bring them the true solace they need. They’ve
lost conscious contact with their inner homeland
of joy and freedom. They feel themselves swept along,
therefore, like pebbles down a raging stream, tumbled
helplessly about by events over which they have
no control. Young people may imagine sometimes that
they’ll be able to manipulate the outer events
in their lives. As they grow older, however, they
find themselves involved, instead, in a dog-eat-dog
fight for survival.
“How
can I be honest,” they ask themselves, “with
so many people doing their utmost to take advantage
of me? How can I live by high principles, and still
make an adequate living? How can I, on my wages,
put my son through college so that he, in turn,
can help to support our family? How can I be scrupulously
truthful, when I know there are many who would eagerly
use the very truths I tell to do me harm?”
A shopkeeper
may sell a product in the knowledge that it is unreliable
or even defective. Perhaps he hopes that his customer
won’t be too disappointed. Indeed, he may
not really care one way or the other, justifying
his misdeeds by reasoning, “Well, a person
has to live, doesn’t he?” In the struggle
to keep his head above water as he swims with the
stream, his motto becomes, “Me first.”
Like the rat in that children’s fable, “Charlotte’s
Web,” his criterion in every circumstance
is, “What’s in it for me?”
The pebbles
in a stream become gradually rounded by rubbing
against one another. Wisdom too, shines more and
more clearly as the little pebble of the ego gets
smoothed by the constant rubbing together of success
and failure, joy and disappointment, gain and loss.
The maturing ego comes in time to understand the
ancient Sanskrit saying, “Yata dharma, tata
jaya: Where there is right action, there is victory.”
Unrighteous behavior brings only failure, disappointment,
and grim karmic retribution in the end.
The Sankhya
philosophy analyzes and exposes the errors of delusion.
Vedanta teaches the eternal nature of reality,
yet states that philosophy alone cannot bestow the
certainty that is born of experience. Only yoga
teaches the way out of delusion: how to walk firmly,
without stumbling, in the raging waters of maya,
in full command of one’s life and inwardly
singing with joy.
Yoga principles
applied to the field of action will be the primary
focus of these lessons. Lofty teachings need to
be externalized in daily life, and not taken inside
only, in meditation. This need for balance is important
especially in modern life. The purpose of this course,
then, is to bridge the gap between two realities—the
inner and the outer.
For material
success to be more assured and lasting, it must
be paired with high principles. The science of yoga
proves these principles to be dynamically valid.
In these lessons you will learn how to direct your
activities from your inner center, and to control
your whole life from that center. In a word, as
you practice these lessons you will find yourself
becoming a cause, and no longer a passive
effect. You will cease being a pebble tumbled
helplessly down the stream of life by circumstances.
The yoga teachings
offer principles and practices, not pious maxims.
They show convincingly why everyone should practice
them. And they offer practical guidelines to a better,
more fulfilled life, both outwardly and inwardly.
Such was the
message which my great Guru, Paramhansa Yogananda,
brought to the world. The yoga he taught was twofold:
the path to inner enlightenment, and important secrets,
also, for achieving outer success.
It is my hope—indeed,
my fond expectation—that these lessons will
help you to be successful in every aspect of your
life.
