The Secret of Work

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THE SECRET OF WORK

 

Swami Vivekananda

 

Helping others physically by removing their physical needs, is indeed

great, but the help is great according as the need is greater and

according as the help is far-reaching. If a man's wants can be

removed for an hour, it is helping him indeed; if his wants can be

removed for a year, it will be more help to him; but if his wants can

be removed for ever, it is surely the greatest help that can be given

him. Spiritual knowledge is the only thing that can destroy our

miseries for ever; any other knowledge satisfies wants only for a

time. It is only with the knowledge of the spirit that the faculty of

want is annihilated for ever; so helping man spiritually is the

highest help that can be given to him. He who gives man spiritual

knowledge is the greatest benefactor of mankind and as such we always

find that those were the most powerful of men who helped man in his

spiritual needs, because spirituality is the true basis of all our

activities in life. A spiritually strong and sound man will be strong

in every other respect, if he so wishes. Until there is spiritual

strength in man even physical needs cannot be well satisfied. Next to

spiritual comes intellectual help. The gift of knowledge is a far

higher gift than that of food and clothes; it is even higher than

giving life to a man, because the real life of man consists of

knowledge. Ignorance is death, knowledge is life. Life is of very

little value, if it is a life in the dark, groping through ignorance

and misery. Next in order comes, of course, helping a man physically.

Therefore, in considering the question of helping others, we must

always strive not to commit the mistake of thinking that physical

help is the only help that can be given. It is not only the last but

the least, because it cannot bring about permanent satisfaction. The

misery that I feel when I am hungry is satisfied by eating, but

hunger returns; my misery can cease only when I am satisfied beyond

all want. Then hunger will not make me miserable; no distress, no

sorrow will be able to move me. So, that help which tends to make us

strong spiritually is the highest, next to it comes intellectual

help, and after that physical help.

 

The miseries of the world cannot be cured by physical help only.

Until man's nature changes, these physical needs will always arise,

and miseries will always be felt, and no amount of physical help will

cure them completely. The only solution of this problem is to make

mankind pure. Ignorance is the mother of all the evil and all the

misery we see. Let men have light, let them be pure and spiritually

strong and educated, then alone will misery cease in the world, not

before. We may convert every house in the country into a charity

asylum, we may fill the land with hospitals, but the misery of man

will still continue to exist until man's character changes.

 

We read in the Bhagavad Gita again and again that we must all work

incessantly. All work is by nature composed of good and evil. We

cannot do any work which will not do some good somewhere; there

cannot be any work which will not cause some harm somewhere. Every

work must necessarily be a mixture of good and evil; yet we are

commanded to work incessantly. Good and evil will both have their

results, will produce their Karma. Good action will entail upon us

good effect; bad action, bad. But good and bad are both bondages of

the soul. The solution reached in the Gita in regard to this bondage-

producing nature of work is that, if we do not attach ourselves to

the work we do, it will not have any binding effect on our soul. We

shall try to understand what is meant by this " non-attachment " to

work.

 

This is the one central idea in the Gita: work incessantly, but be

not attached to it. Samskara can be translated very nearly

by " inherent tendency " . Using the simile of a lake for the mind,

every ripple, every wave that rises in the mind, when it subsides,

does not die out entirely, but leaves a mark and a future possibility

of that wave coming out again. This mark, with the possibility of the

wave reappearing, is what is called Samskara. Every work that we do,

every movement of the body, every thought that we think, leaves such

an impression on the mind-stuff, and even when such impressions are

not obvious on the surface, they are sufficiently strong to work

beneath the surface, subconsciously. What we are every moment is

determined by the sum total of these impressions on the mind. What I

am just at this moment is the effect of the sum total of all the

impressions of my past life. This is really what is meant by

character; each man's character is determined by the sum total of

these impressions. If good impressions prevail, the character becomes

good; if bad, it becomes bad. If a man continuously hears bad words,

thinks bad thoughts, does bad actions, his mind will be full of bad

impressions; and they will influence his thought and work without his

being conscious of the fact. In fact, these bad impressions are

always working, and their resultant must be evil, and that man will

be a bad man; he cannot help it. The sum total of these impressions

in him will create the strong motive power for doing bad actions. He

will be like a machine in the hand of his impressions, and they will

force him to do evil. Similarly, if a man thinks good thoughts and

does good works, the sum total of these impressions will be good; and

they, in a similar manner, will force him to do good even in spite of

himself. When a man has done so much good work and thought so many

good thoughts that there is an irresistible tendency in him to do

good, in spite of himself and even if he wishes to do evil, his mind,

as the sum total of his tendencies, will not allow him to do so; the

tendencies will turn him back; he is completely under the influence

of the good tendencies. When such is the case, a man's good character

is said to be established.

 

As the tortoise tucks its feet and head inside the shell, and you may

kill it and break it in pieces, and yet it will not come out, even so

the character of that man who has control over his motives and organs

is unchangeably established. He controls his own inner forces, and

nothing can draw them out against his will. By this continuous reflex

of good thoughts, good impressions moving over the surface of the

mind, the tendency for doing good becomes strong, and as the result

we feel able to control the Indriyas (the sense-organs, the nerve-

centres). Thus alone will character be established, then alone a man

gets to truth. Such a man is safe for ever; he cannot do any evil.

You may place him in any company, there will be no danger for him.

There is a still higher state than having this good tendency, and

that is the desire for liberation. You must remember that freedom of

the soul is the goal of all Yogas, and each one equally leads to the

same result. By work alone men may get to where Buddha got largely by

meditation or Christ by prayer. Buddha was a working Jnani, Christ

was a Bhakta, but the same goal was reached by both of them. The

difficulty is here. Liberation means entire freedom--freedom from the

bondage of good, as well as from the bondage of evil. A golden chain

is as much a chain as an iron one. There is a thorn in my finger, and

I use another to take the first one out; and when I have taken it

out, I throw both of them aside; I have no necessity for keeping the

second thorn, because both are thorns after all. So the bad

tendencies are to be counteracted by the good ones, and the bad

impressions on the mind should be removed by the fresh waves of good

ones, until all that is evil almost disappears, or is subdued and

held in control in a corner of the mind; but after that, the good

tendencies have also to be conquered. Thus the " attached " becomes

the " unattached " . Work, but let not the action or the thought produce

a deep impression on the mind. Let the ripples come and go, let huge

actions proceed from the muscles and the brain, but let them not make

any deep impression on the soul.

 

How can this be done? We see that the impression of any action, to

which we attach ourselves, remains. I may meet hundred of persons

during the day, and among them meet also one whom I love; and when I

retire at night, I may try to think of all the faces I saw, but only

that face comes before the mind--the face which I met perhaps only

for one minute, and which I loved; all the others have vanished. My

attachment to this particular person caused a deeper impression on my

mind than all the other faces. Physiologically the impressions have

all been the same; every one of the faces that I saw pictured itself

on the retina, and the brain took the pictures in, and yet there was

no similarity of effect upon the mind. Most of the faces, perhaps,

were entirely new faces, about which I had never thought before, but

that one face of which I got only a glimpse found associations

inside. Perhaps I had pictured him in my mind for years, knew

hundreds of things about him, and this one new vision of him awakened

hundreds of sleeping memories in my mind; and this one impression

having been repeated perhaps a hundred times more than those of the

different faces together, will produce a great effect on the mind.

 

Therefore, be " unattached " ; let things work; let brain centres work;

work incessantly, but let not a ripple conquer the mind. Work as if

you were a stranger in this land, a sojourner; work incessantly, but

do not bind yourselves; bondage is terrible. This world is not our

habitation, it is only one of the many stages through which we are

passing. Remember that great saying of the Sankhya, " The whole of

nature is for the soul, not the soul for nature. " The very reason of

nature's existence is for the education of the soul; it has no other

meaning; it is there because the soul must have knowledge, and

through knowledge free itself. If we remember this always, we shall

never be attached to nature; we shall know that nature is a book in

which we are to read, and that when we have gained the required

knowledge, the book is of no more value to us. Instead of that,

however, we are identifying ourselves with nature; we are thinking

that the soul is for nature, that the spirit is for the flesh, and,

as the common saying has it, we think that man " lives to eat " and

not " eats to live " . We are continually making this mistake; we are

regarding nature as ourselves and are becoming attached to it; and as

soon as this attachment comes, there is the deep impression on the

soul, which binds us down and makes us work not from freedom but like

slaves.

 

The whole gist of this teaching is that you should work like a master

and not as a slave; work incessantly, but do not do slave's work. Do

you not see how everybody works? Nobody can be altogether at rest;

ninety-nine per cent of mankind work like slaves, and the result is

misery; it is all selfish work. Work through freedom! Work through

love! The word " love " is very difficult to understand; love never

comes until there is freedom. There is no true love possible in the

slave. If you buy a slave and tie him down in chains and make him

work for you, he will work like a drudge, but there will be no love

in him. So when we ourselves work for the things of the world as

slaves, there can be no love in us, and our work is not true work.

This is true of work done for relatives and friends, and is true of

work done for our own selves. Selfish work is slave's work; and here

is a test. Every act of love brings happiness; there is no act of

love which does not bring peace and blessedness as its reaction. Real

existence, real knowledge, and real love are eternally connected with

one another, the three in one: where one of them is, the others also

must be; they are the three aspects of the One without a second--the

Existence-Knowledge-Bliss. When that existence becomes relative, we

see it as the world; that knowledge becomes in its turn modified into

the knowledge of the things of the world; and that bliss forms the

foundation of all true love known to the heart of man. Therefore true

love can never react so as to cause pain either to the lover or to

the beloved. Suppose a man loves a woman; he wishes to have her all

to himself and feels extremely jealous about her every movement; he

wants her to sit near him, to stand near him, and to eat and move at

his bidding. He is a slave to her and wishes to have her as his

slave. That is not love; it is a kind of morbid affection of the

slave, insinuating itself as love. It cannot be love, because it is

painful; if she does not do what he wants, it brings him pain. With

love there is no painful reaction; love only brings a reaction of

bliss; if it does not, it is not love; it is mistaking something else

for love. When you have succeeded in loving your husband, your wife,

your children, the whole world, the universe, in such a manner that

there is no reaction of pain or jealousy, no selfish feeling, then

you are in a fit state to be unattached.

 

Krishna says, " Look at Me, Arjuna! If I stop from work for one

moment, the whole universe will die. I have nothing to gain from

work; I am the one Lord, but why do I work? Because I love the

world. " God is unattached because He loves; that real love makes us

unattached. Wherever there is attachment, the clinging to the things

of the world, you must know that it is all physical attraction

between sets of particles of matter--something that attracts two

bodies nearer and nearer all the time and, if they cannot get near

enough, produces pain; but where there is real love, it does not

rest on physical attachment at all. Such lovers may be a thousand

miles away from one another, but their love will be all the same; it

does not die, and will never produce any painful reaction.

 

To attain this unattachment is almost a life-work, but as soon as we

have reached this point, we have attained the goal of love and become

free; the bondage of nature falls from us, and we see nature as she

is; she forges no more chains for us; we stand entirely free and take

not the results of work into consideration; who then cares for what

the results may be?

 

Do you ask anything from your children in return for what you have

given them? It is your duty to work for them, and there the matter

ends. In whatever you do for a particular person, a city, or a state,

assume the same attitude towards it as you have towards your children-

-expect nothing in return. If you can invariably take the position

of a giver, in which everything given by you is a free offering to

the world, without any thought of return, then will your work bring

you no attachment. Attachment comes only where we expect a return.If

working like slaves results in selfishness and attachment, working as

master of our own mind gives rise to the bliss of non-attachment. We

often talk of right and justice, but we find that in the world right

and justice are mere baby's talk. There are two things which guide

the conduct of men: might and mercy. The exercise of might is

invariably the exercise of selfishness. All men and women try to make

the most of whatever power or advantage they have. Mercy is heaven

itself; to be good, we have all to be merciful. Even justice and

right should stand on mercy. All thought of obtaining return for the

work we do hinders our spiritual progress; nay, in the end it brings

misery. There is another way in which this idea of mercy and selfless

charity can be put into practice; that is, by looking upon work

as " worship " in case we believe in a Personal God. Here we give up

all the fruits of our work unto the Lord, and worshipping Him thus,

we have no right to expect anything from mankind for the work we do.

The Lord Himself works incessantly and is ever without attachment.

Just as water cannot wet the lotus leaf, so work cannot bind the

unselfish man by giving rise to attachment to results. The selfless

and unattached man may live in the very heart of a crowded and sinful

city; he will not be touched by sin.

 

This idea of complete self-sacrifice is illustrated in the following

story: After the battle of Kurukshetra the five Pandava brothers

performed a great sacrifice and made very large gifts to the poor.

All people expressed amazement at the greatness and richness of the

sacrifice, and said that such a sacrifice the world had never seen

before. But, after the ceremony, there came a little mongoose, half

of whose body was golden, and the other half brown; and he began to

roll on the floor of the sacrificial hall. He said to those

around, " You are all liars; this is no sacrifice. " " What! " they

exclaimed, " you say this is no sacrifice; do you not know how money

and jewels were poured out to the poor and every one became rich and

happy? This was the most wonderful sacrifice any man every

performed. " But the mongoose said, " There was once a little village,

and in it there dwelt a poor Brahmin with his wife, his son, and his

son's wife. They were very poor and lived on small gifts made to them

for preaching and teaching. There came in that land a three years'

famine, and the poor Brahmin suffered more than ever. At last when

the family had starved for days, the father brought home one morning

a little barley flour, which he had been fortunate enough to obtain,

and he divided it into four parts, one for each member of the family.

They prepared it for their meal, and just as they were about to eat,

there was a knock at the door. The father opened it, and there stood

a guest. Now in India a guest is a sacred person; he is as a god for

the time being, and must be treated as such. So the poor Brahmin

said, " Come in, sir; you are welcome. " He set before the guest his

own portion of the food, which the guest quickly ate and said, " Oh,

sir, you have killed me; I have been starving for ten days, and this

little bit has but increased my hunger. " Then the wife said to her

husband, " Give him my share, " but the husband said, " Not so. " The

wife however insisted, saying, " Here is a poor man, and it is our

duty as householders to see that he is fed, and it is my duty as a

wife to give him my portion, seeing that you have no more to offer

him. " Then she gave her share to the guest, which he ate, and said he

was still burning with hunger. So the son said, " Take my portion

also; it is the duty of a son to help his father to fulfil his

obligation. " The guest ate that, but remained still unsatisfied; so

the son's wife gave him her portion also. That was sufficient, and

the guest departed, blessing them. That night those four people died

of starvation. A few granules of that flour had fallen on the floor;

and when I rolled my body on them, half of it became golden, as you

see. Since then I have been travelling all over the world, hoping to

find another sacrifice like that, but nowhere have I found one;

nowhere else has the other half of my body been turned into gold.

That is why I say this is no sacrifice. "

 

This idea of charity is going out of India; great men are becoming

fewer and fewer. When I was first learning English, I read an English

story book in which there was a story about a dutiful boy who had

gone out to work and had given some of his money to his old mother,

and this was praised in three or four pages. What was that? No Hindu

boy can ever understand the moral of that story. Now I understand it

when I hear the Western idea--every man for himself. And some men

take everything for themselves, and fathers and mothers and wives and

children go to the wall. That should never and nowhere be the ideal

of the householder.

 

Now you see what Karma-Yoga means; even at the point of death to help

any one, without asking questions. Be cheated millions of times and

never ask a question, and never think of what you are doing. Never

vaunt of your gifts to the poor or expect their gratitude, but rather

be grateful to them for giving you the occasion of practising charity

to them. Thus it is plain that to be an ideal householder is a much

more difficult task than to be an ideal Sannyasin; the true life of

work is indeed as hard as, if not harder than, the equally true life

of renunciation.