Information on Vedanta - Part 2 of 2

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Karma yoga is the yoga of action or work; specifically, karma yoga is the

path of dedicated work: renouncing the results of our actions as a

spiritual offering rather than hoarding the results for ourselves.

 

As we mentioned earlier, karma is both action and the result of action.

What we experience today is the result of our karma--both good and

bad--created by our previous actions. This chain of cause and effect that

we ourselves have created can be snapped by karma yoga: fighting fire with

fire, we use the sword of karma yoga to stop the chain reaction of cause

and effect. By disengaging the ego from the work process, by offering the

results up to a higher power--whether a personal God or to the Self

within--we stop the whole snowballing process. Whether we realize it or

not, all of us perform actions all the time since even sitting and thinking

is action. Since action is inevitable, an integral part of being alive, we

need to reorient it into a path to God-realization. As we read in the

Bhagavad Gita, one of Hinduism's most sacred scriptures:

 

Whatever your action, Food or worship; Whatever the gift That you give to

another; Whatever you vow To the work of the spirit. . . Lay these also As

offerings before Me.

 

All of us tend to work with expectations in mind: we work hard in our jobs

to get respect and appreciation from our colleagues and promotions from the

boss. We clean our yards and make them lovely with the hope that our

neighbors will be appreciative if not downright envious. We work hard in

school to get good grades, anticipating that this will bring us a fine

future. We cook a splendid meal with the expectation that it will be

received with plaudits and praise. We dress nicely in anticipation of

someone's appreciation. So much of our lives is run simply in expectation

of future results that we do it automatically, unconsciously. This,

however, is a perilous pattern. From a spiritual viewpoint, all these

expectations and anticipations are Trojan horses that will bring us misery

either sooner or later. Misery is inevitable because our expectations and

desires are unending and unappeasable. We will live from disappointment to

disappointment because our motivation is to gratify and enlarge the ego;

instead of breaking the bonds of karma, we are forging fresh chains.

 

No matter whether we are devotional, intellectual or meditative by

temperament, karma yoga can easily be practiced in tandem with the other

spiritual paths. Even those who lead a predominantly meditative life

benefit from karma yoga, for thoughts can produce bonds just as effectively

as physical actions. Just as devotees offer flowers and incense in their

loving worship of God, so can actions and thoughts be offered as divine

worship. Knowing that the Lord exists in the hearts of all creatures,

devotees can and should worship God by serving all beings as his living

manifestations. To paraphrase Jesus Christ: What we do for the least of our

brothers and sisters, we do for the Lord himself. "A yogi," says the

Bhagavad Gita, "sees Me in all things, and all things within Me." The

highest of all yogis, the Gita continues, is one "who burns with the bliss

and suffers the sorrow of every creature" within his or her own heart.

 

Jnanis take a different but equally effective tack. They know that although

the body or the mind performs action, in reality they do no work at all. In

the midst of intense activity, they rest in the deep stillness of the

Atman. Maintaining the attitude of a witness, jnanis continually remember

that they are not the body, not the mind. They know the Atman is not

subject to fatigue or anxiety or excitement; pure, perfect and free, the

Atman has no struggle to engage in, no goal to attain.

 

The point of all the yogas is to spiritualize our entire life instead of

compartmentalizing our days into "secular" and "spiritual" zones. Karma

yoga is particularly effective at this since it won't allow us to use

activity as an escape. By insisting that life itself can be holy, karma

yoga gives us the tools of everyday life to cut our way to freedom. To

quote again the Bhagavad Gita regarding karma yoga:

 

Thus you will free yourself from both the good and the evil effects of your

actions. Offer up everything to Me. If your heart is united with Me, you

will be set free from karma even in this life, and come to Me at the last.

 

 

Raja yoga, is the royal path of meditation. As a king maintains control

over his kingdom, so can we maintain control over our own "kingdom"--the

vast territory of the mind. In raja yoga we use our mental powers to

realize the Atman through the process of psychological control.

 

The basic premise of raja yoga is that our perception of the divine Self is

obscured by the disturbances of the mind. If the mind can be made still and

pure, the Self will automatically, instantaneously, shine forth. Says the

Bhagavad Gita: When, through the practice of yoga, the mind ceases its

restless movements, and becomes still, the aspirant realizes the Atman.

 

If we can imagine a lake that is whipped by waves, fouled by pollution,

muddied by tourists and made turbulent by speedboats, we'll get a fair

assessment of the mind's usual state. Should anyone doubt this assertion,

let the intrepid soul try to sit quietly for a few minutes and meditate

upon the Atman. What happens? A thousand different thoughts fly at us, all

leading the mind outward. The fly buzzing around suddenly becomes very

important. So does the thought of dinner. We now remember where we left the

keys. The argument we had yesterday becomes even more vivid and powerful;

so does the perfect retort that we've cleverly composed during our

"meditation." The minute we stop thinking one thought, another jumps in

with equal force. Were it not so dismaying, it would be funny.

 

Most of the time we remain unaware of the mind's erratic movements because

we are habituated to giving our minds free reign: we've never seriously

attempted to observe, let alone train the mind. Like parents whose

indiscipline has created children that everyone dreads, our lack of mental

discipline has created the turbulent, ill-behaved minds that have given us

endless difficulty. Without psychological discipline, the mind becomes the

mental equivalent of the house ape. And all of us, sadly enough, have

suffered mental agony because of it. Mastering the Mind

 

While we may have grown accustomed to living with an uncontrolled mind, we

should never assume that it's an acceptable, if not inevitable, state of

affairs. Vedanta says that we can master the mind and, through repeated

practice, we can make the mind our servant rather than being its victim.

The mind, when trained, is our truest friend; when left untrained and

reckless, it's an enemy that won't leave the premises. Now, instead of the

polluted lake we previously envisioned, think of a beautiful, clear lake.

No waves, no pollution, no tourists, no speedboats. It's clear as glass:

calm, quiet, tranquil. Looking down through the pure water, you can clearly

see the bottom of the lake. The bottom of the lake, metaphorically

speaking, is the Atman residing deep within our hearts. When the mind is

pure and calm, the Self is no longer hidden from view. And, Vedanta says,

that mind can be yours.

 

How? To again quote the Bhagavad Gita: Patiently, little by little,

spiritual aspirants must free themselves from all mental distractions, with

the aid of the intelligent will. They must fix their minds upon the Atman,

and never think of anything else. No matter where the restless and unquiet

mind wanders, it must be drawn back and made to submit to the Atman alone.

 

The mind is cleansed and made tranquil through the repeated practice of

meditation and through the practice of moral virtues. Popular wisdom aside,

there is no way to practice meditation without practicing moral virtues in

tandem. To try to do otherwise is as effective as sailing the ocean with a

leaky boat.

 

For such a Herculean task as realizing the Atman, all areas of the mind

must be fully engaged. We cannot compartmentalize our life and assume that

we can have both a "secular" area (in which we can live as we please) and a

"spiritual" area. Just as we can't cross the ocean in a leaky boat, so we

can't cross the ocean with two legs in two different boats. We must fully

integrate all aspects of life and direct our energies towards the one great

goal. This doesn't mean that in order to realize God a person must totally

renounce the world and live in a cave, monastery or convent. What it does

mean is that all aspects of our life must be spiritualized so that they can

be directed towards attaining the goal of God-realization.

 

Because raja yoga is the path of meditation, it is--when practiced

exclusively--generally followed by those who lead contemplative lives. Most

of us will never fall into that category. Raja yoga is, however, an

essential component of all other spiritual paths since meditation is

involved in the loving recollection of God, mental discrimination, and is

an essential balance to selfless action. Meditation

 

As for directions on how to meditate and what to meditate upon, such issues

must be taken up directly with a qualified spiritual teacher. Meditation is

an intensely personal matter; only a genuine spiritual teacher can

accurately gauge the student's personal tendencies and direct the student's

mind accordingly. Further, spirituality is caught, not taught. A genuine

spiritual teacher ignites the flame of spirituality in the student by the

power of his or her own attainment: the student's candle is lit by the

teacher's flame. Our candles cannot be lit by books any more than they can

be lit by unqualified teachers who speak religion without living it. True

spirituality is transmitted: only pure, unselfish teachers who have

achieved some level of spiritual awakening can enliven our own dormant flame.

 

That said, some basic guidelines can be given: any concept of God--whether

formless or with form--that appeals to us is helpful and good. We can think

of God as being present either outside of ourselves or inside. Ramakrishna,

however, recommended meditating upon God within, saying "the heart is a

splendid place for meditation." Repetition of any name of God that appeals

to us is good, so is repeating the holy syllable "Om." It's helpful to have

a regular time for meditation in order to create a habit; it's also helpful

to have a regular place for meditation that is quiet, clean, and tranquil.

 

 

Vedanta ethics and moral virtues are rooted in the ideal of realizing and

manifesting our own innate divinity. Simply put, whatever brings us closer

to that goal is ethical and moral; whatever prevents us from attaining it,

is not.

 

Like a diamond buried in mud, the Atman shines within us, yet its presence

remains obscured, its shining purity masked by countless layers of

ignorance: wrong identification, incorrect knowledge, misguided

perceptions. It is important to emphasize that we are not trying to become

something other than what we already are. We are not trying to become pure;

we are pure. We are not trying to become perfect; we are perfect already.

That is our real nature. Acting in accordance with our real nature--acting

nobly, truthfully, kindly--tears away the veil of ignorance that hides the

truth of reality. Whatever distorts this reality is a perversion of the

truth. The whole of Vedanta ethics, then, is based upon a simple line of

reasoning: Does this action or thought bring me closer to realizing the

truth, or does it take me further away?

 

 

Morality and the Ego

 

What is it that prevents us from realizing the truth? Simply put, the ego:

the sense of "I" and "mine." As the great spiritual teacher Ramakrishna

said, "The feeling of 'I' and 'mine' has covered the Reality so we don't

see the truth." He further said, "When the ego dies, all troubles cease."

 

What does the ego have to do with ethics and morality? Absolutely

everything. All moral codes are based upon the ideal of unselfishness:

placing others before ourselves, forcing the ego to play second fiddle.

Following selfish desires is always a detriment to our spiritual life.

Whether the action or thought is great or small, any selfishness will make

the veil of ignorance thicker and darker. Conversely, any act of

unselfishness, however great or small, will have the opposite effect. It is

for this reason that doing good to others is a universal ethical and moral

code, found in all religions and societies. Why is this so universal?

Because it reflects the truth that we instinctively intuit: the oneness of

life.

 

Love, sympathy, and empathy are the affirmation of this truth; they are a

reflexive response because they mirror the reality of the universe. When we

feel love and sympathy we are verifying--albeit unconsciously--the oneness

that already exists. When we feel hatred, anger, and jealousy we separate

ourselves from others and deny our real nature which is infinite and free

from limitations. What is the root of the problem here? Our wrong

identification: thinking of ourselves as minds and bodies rather than

infinite Spirit. As Swami Vivekananda, Ramakrishna's great disciple, said:

"As soon as I think that I am a little body, I want to preserve it, to

protect it, to keep it nice, at the expense of other bodies; then you and I

become separate. As soon as this idea of separation comes, it opens the

door to all mischief and leads to all misery."

 

 

The Point of Moral Virtues

 

All the moral virtues taught by Vedanta serve to remind us of our real

nature, and no spiritual progress can be made without following them. Any

attempt to do so would be like trying to build a house without a

foundation. Before we even begin to think about how to realize the ultimate

truth, we first need to build the groundwork of a real life, one based on

real values.

 

Spiritual life is not a haphazard affair: it is the most serious task that

we shall ever face. And it is absolutely impossible to do so without living

an ethical, moral life. It simply does not work. If Vedanta lays such

stress on an ethical life, what, then, are the virtues we emphasize?

Patanjali, one of the ancient sages of India and the father of its

psychology, formulated standards of moral conduct which have been followed

for thousands of years.

 

These precepts function as spiritual tools, tools that can be used to

create spiritually beneficial habits. These tools aren't goals that can be

instantly achieved--they are ideals to strive for, patterns to emulate.

Still, it's good to remember that when we do use these tools, we grow in

strength and move closer to our ideal. Patanjali divided the moral precepts

into two categories, yama and niyama, each category consisting of five

precepts.

 

Yama consists of nonviolence, truthfulness, nonstealing, chastity or

celibacy, and the nonreceiving of gifts. Niyama consists of cleanliness,

contentment, austerity, study, and self-surrender to God. While many of

these disciplines seem self-evident, some of them need further explanation.

Serious spiritual aspirants, Swami Vivekananda said, "must not think of

injuring anyone, by thought, word, or deed. Mercy shall not be for human

beings alone, but shall go beyond, and embrace the whole world."

 

Truthfulness not only means speaking truthfully but also adhering to the

truth in thought, word, and deed. Ramakrishna said that "making the heart

and lips one" was the spiritual discipline of our age.

 

Nonstealing also means noncovetousness: it means not desiring things that

belong to others and not appropriating what belongs to others. Even using

someone else's words or ideas and presenting them as our own without

acknowledging their source is a kind of stealing.

 

Chastity or celibacy is stressed for two reasons: First, serious spiritual

seekers need to conserve the energy generally directed to sex and to

redirect it to Self-realization. Second, physical or mental sexual activity

reinforces our idea of ourselves as bodies and not as Spirit. If we want to

progress in spiritual life, we need to regard other people as human

beings--as manifestations of God--and not as male and female bodies. We

should add here that Vedanta is meant for all people--not simply those with

monastic inclinations. Vedanta acknowledges that sexual desire is, at its

core, longing for union with God. While strict celibacy is stressed for

monastics, Vedanta advocates sexual responsibility and self-control for

nonmonastics. For nonmonastics, chastity means fidelity to one's spouse.

Further, when approached in the right spirit, marriage is a sacred

spiritual path. One's spouse is also one's spiritual partner and should be

looked upon as a manifestation of divinity.

 

 

The ethical virtues listed above may seem fairly reasonable, but what's the

problem with accepting gifts? We can see from this guideline how carefully

the ancient Hindu sages watched the workings of the mind. Accepting gifts

from others makes us feel obligated: we can become manipulated through them

and lose our independence. Sometimes gifts are really bribes in disguise:

if we feel even vaguely indebted to the giver, our minds become tainted.

Sometimes the effect is obvious, sometimes it is subtle; but it is there

nonetheless. For this reason we should accept no gift unless it is given

with no motive except pure love. Otherwise we'll be like puppets who jump

whenever the invisible strings are pulled. Cleanliness is the first virtue

of niyama. It means not only physical cleanliness but also mental and moral

cleanliness. When our minds are jealous, suspicious, rancorous or just

plain mean, our minds are "dirty." We can take all the baths in the world

but we still are failing in cleanliness if our minds are polluted.

Cheerfulness is an essential component of mental cleanliness.

 

Contentment is tied to mental cleanliness because a dissatisfied mind is a

turbulent, unhappy mind. We should be content with our present condition,

and move forward. Contentment doesn't mean laziness: it doesn't mean that

we should be satisfied with our current state of spiritual progress. We

should have divine discontent but at the same time be satisfied with the

externals that we are presented with.

 

The word "austerity" generally makes people shudder. They shouldn't though,

because we all practice austerities all the time, we simply don't use the

word. No great endeavor can succeed without austerity: a student must study

hard in order to get good grades, a parent must sometimes give up sleep in

order to care for a sick child. Our jobs demand hard work and long hours.

 

Spiritual austerity is much sweeter than all these put together, for the

goal to be attained is the highest. Austerity in Vedanta means disciplining

the body and mind in order to put them at our disposal for the realization

of God. It also means keeping an even keel in the tempests of life.

 

Life generally presents us with what Vedanta calls "the pairs of

opposites": praise and blame, health and sickness, prosperity and penury,

joy and misery. We cannot get one without eventually getting the other;

they are two sides of the same coin. Keeping our mental poise in the midst

of all of these is true austerity: neither being elated by praise nor

depressed by criticism, neither being haughty in prosperity nor dejected in

poverty. Evenness of mind under all conditions is genuine austerity, for

the ego is given no opportunity to come into play.

 

Study--which comprises not only the study of sacred literature but also the

repetition of a mantra or name of God--is vital for spiritual aspirants.

Firm regularity in practice is also included in the discipline of study.

While routine might seem counterproductive to spiritual development, it is,

in fact, crucial. The force of a regular habit of spiritual study insures

that--like it or not, tired or not, interested or not--we will doggedly

pursue our highest ideals. The nature of the mind is fickle: sometimes it's

in a good mood, sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's energetic, sometimes

it's lazy. We can't allow our spiritual life to become subject to the

mind's whims. A regular habit of study creates a favorable mental

atmosphere: at the appointed time the mind will naturally become quiet

since it has been trained by repeated habit to react that way.

 

 

Our Choice

 

As we can see, the guidelines for spiritual aspirants are serious and

demanding. We should remember, however, that no one is imposing these

disciplines upon us. We are choosing to follow them and we are doing so

because we desire our own freedom. No one is cracking a whip over us; no

God is writing our failures in a ledger. Even failing in the attempt to

follow these disciplines has benefit because at least we are trying to

develop spiritual strength; trying and failing is infinitely better than

not trying at all. Every failure is a steppingstone on the path to

spiritual perfection.

 

 

India, with her wealth of spiritual tradition, has produced many spiritual

giants. One of the greatest was Ramakrishna (1836-1886). His life was a

testament to truth, universality, love and purity.

 

Born in a rural village outside Calcutta, Ramakrishna even as a boy

naturally gravitated toward leading a spiritual life. This tendency only

intensified as he grew older. When as a young man he became a temple

priest, he was seized by an unquenchable thirst for union with God, and he

immersed himself in intense meditation and other spiritual practices.

Ramakrishna was constantly absorbed in the thought of God. He would often

go into high spiritual states where he would merge with the Infinite

Reality. For him, the Vedantic teaching of unity of all existence was more

than theory; he literally saw, and knew, this to be true.

 

In his thirst for the divine, Ramakrishna followed different religious

paths including various branches of Hinduism. Not content to stop there,

however, he also practiced Islam and later meditated deeply on the Christ,

experiencing the same divine Reality through these non-Hindu paths. Thus,

he came to the conclusion, based on his direct experience, that all

religions lead to the same goal. In addition, through his many Sikh

devotees, he learned of their faith and its great founders, and he was told

of the wonderful life and teachings of the Buddha. This exposure to Sikhism

and Buddhism further confirmed his experience of the universality of

spiritual truth.

 

Ramakrishna's love for humanity was limitless. He often said human beings

were the highest manifestations of God. His disciples saw this love

firsthand, and the monastic order Ramakrishna inspired achieved the

distinction of being the first order in India to serve humanity. Service to

God in humankind is one of the foremost ideals of the Ramakrishna Order.

Among his many other noteworthy characteristics were his universality and

childlike purity, his intense sincerity, his vast knowledge of things

spiritual and human (which came not from book-learning but from direct

perception), and his extraordinary power to transform lives.

 

Ramakrishna's teachings regarding the highest truths of spiritual life were

delivered in the simplest language and were punctuated by parables and

homely metaphors as illustrations. Many noted writers and

philosophers-Mahatma Gandhi, Leo Tolstoy, Aldous Huxley, Christopher

Isherwood, Thomas Merton, Arnold Toynbee, Joseph Campbell-have been deeply

impressed and influenced by him.

 

"Different people call on [God] by different names: some as Allah, some as

God, and others as Krishna, Siva, and Brahman. It is like the water in a

lake. Some drink it at one place and call it 'jal', others at another place

and call it 'pani', and still others at a third place and call it 'water'.

The Hindus call it 'jal', the Christians 'water', and the Moslems 'pani'.

But it is one and the same thing."

 

"All religions are true. The important thing is to reach the roof. You can

reach it by stone stairs or by wooden stairs or by bamboo steps or by a

rope. You can also climb up by a bamboo pole.Once some blind men chanced

to come near an animal that someone told them was an elephant. They were

asked what the elephant was like. The blind men began to feel its body. One

of them said the elephant was like a pillar; he had touched only its leg.

Another said it was like a winnowing fan; he had touched only its ear. In

this way the others, having touched its tail or belly, gave their different

versions of the elephant. Just so, a man who has seen only one aspect of

God limits God to that alone. It is his conviction that God cannot be

anything else."

 

 

Swami Vivekananda (1863-1902) was the foremost disciple of Ramakrishna and

a world spokesperson for Vedanta. His lectures, writings, letters, and

poems are published as The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda. He felt it

was best to teach universal principles rather than personalities, so we

find little mention of Ramakrishna in the Complete Works. Swami Vivekananda

represented Hinduism at the first World Parliament of Religions in Chicago

in 1893 where he was an instant success. Subsequently he was invited to

speak all over America and Europe. He was a man with a great spiritual

presence and tremendous intellect.

 

Most of the Vedanta Societies which were founded in America and Europe up

through the 1930s can trace their origins directly to Vivekananda or the

people who heard him speak from 1893 through 1900. After his first visit to

the West, Swami Vivekananda returned to India and founded the Ramakrishna

Order in 1898.

 

"Religion is not in books, nor in theories, nor in dogmas, nor in talking,

not even in reasoning. It is being and becoming.I do not believe in a

God or religion which cannot wipe the widow's tears or bring a piece of

bread to the orphan's mouth."

 

"Infinite power and existence and blessedness are ours, and we have not to

acquire them; they are our own, and we have only to manifest them.He who

has no faith in himself can never have faith in God."

 

"Be an atheist if you want, but do not believe in anything

unquestioningly.The living God is within you."

 

"He alone is worshiping God who serves all beings."

 

 

The affectionate term "Holy Mother" refers to Sarada Devi (1853-1920),

Ramakrishna's wife and spiritual counterpart. According to the custom then

prevalent in India, she was betrothed to him while still a child. At the

age of 18, she left her parental home to join her husband, who lived some

sixty miles away, near Calcutta.

 

By that time Ramakrishna had dedicated his body and mind to the spiritual

search and lived the life of a monk. Yet he received Sarada very kindly,

feeling that Divine Providence had brought her. After nursing her to

recovery from an illness contracted on the journey, Ramakrishna one day

asked her why she had come to join him. She replied that she had come only

to help him in his chosen way, which--as she well knew--meant the way of

complete renunciation of all earthly ties for the sake of God-realization.

Thus, instead of seeking conjugal fulfillment, she became his first

disciple. Sarada Devi was a spiritual giant in her own right and yet, in

her simple and unassuming way, she served Ramakrishna and his disciples for

many years. After Ramakrishna's passing away, she carried on his religious

ministry, serving as guide and inspiration of the new spiritual movement.

 

Within the ambiance of her natural simplicity and modesty, she set a unique

example of an ideal disciple, nun, wife, teacher, and also mother to her

countless spiritual children. Those who associated with her were

overwhelmed by her unconditional love and selfless service. All were her

children irrespective of nationality, religious affiliation, or social

position. No one was ever turned away. She accepted all.

 

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