Drg Drsya Viveka Lecture 06

Dṛk-Dṛśya Viveka and the Thirteenth Chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā

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Opening: The Rarity and Meaning of Satsaṅga

So friends, I am very happy that we are here.

So it is said that satsaṅga is a very rare thing in this world. Usually people do not hear of this word sat. Sat means that which is good, that which is real, that which is true, and that which is God. And God is nothing but that which is true, that which is real, and that which is good. Expressed in the Western value system, it is called satyam, śivam, sundaram — goodness, truth, and beauty. This is what we are all seeking: truth, goodness, and beauty. This is the nature of God. And whichever promotes these three is called satsaṅga.

Satsaṅga means the company of the pure, the real, the true, and the beautiful. It could be achieved in so many different ways. It could be a place, like holy places. It could be a person, like holy persons. Or it could be an event, like very devotional pūjās. Or it could be scriptures, by reading which our minds get elevated.

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How Do We Judge What Is Satsaṅga?

Anything — but how do we judge what is satsaṅga? There must be criteria. How do we judge? By the effect. How do we judge food? Usually we only judge by the taste. But taste is highly individual. What one person likes, another person doesn't. That's not the criterion at all. In fact, if you try to analyse, taste is a way of ramming the food down our throat. That which rams us very quickly is called taste. That which takes a long time is called distaste or bad taste. Is it not?

So the criterion is not that. What could be the criterion? Only one criterion. What is that? That which promotes health and happiness — that is called food.

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The Five Mouths: What Is Truly Āhāra?

In that sense, food is again not merely the rice or bread or things that we take. Whatever goes in is food. Āhāra means that which goes in. So there are five mouths. Each one of us has got five mouths. What are those five mouths? The eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue, and the skin. Through these five mouths, we are taking five different types of foods: śabda, sparśa, rūpa, rasa, and gandha. So whatever goes inside is āhāra.

How do we judge what is really good food? That which promotes three things. What are those three things? That which promotes sat. That which promotes cit. That which promotes ānanda. That is why the name of God according to Hindus is Saccidānanda.

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Every Being Seeks Sat, Cit, and Ānanda

Every living being, irrespective of what it is or how much intelligence it has — only consciously, but mostly unconsciously — is seeking only these three things. First, it wants to be, to survive, to live. It will never wish to die, or in any way get harmed in the form of a threat to its existence — that is sat. And it always seeks — why does something want to live? There must be a purpose. Living must have a purpose. We don't want to live like vegetables. We want to accomplish something, consciously or unconsciously.

What is the next thing? We want to be happy. And what is happiness? Do you know? We use different words, sometimes without understanding what they mean. "Health" is such a word. Do you want to be healthy? Yes — nobody would contradict that, isn't it? What does it mean to be healthy? Healthy means just to be one's own self. Svastha. We use the word svastha, svasti. The word svasti is derived from the word svastha. They say the monogram svastika is derived from this symbolism. Svasti means that which is peace, that which promotes happiness. It is a symbolism — svastika — though some people have perverted it to its very opposite, not knowing what it is.

So, if you are asked, do you want to be healthy? Yes, because if you are not healthy, you are unhealthy. If you are unhealthy, you are not happy. If you are healthy, you are happy. But we don't understand very often. We don't even remember that we are healthy. What is the sign of health? The absence of consciousness of it. So long as your tooth is working very nicely, you don't remember it. But the moment a toothache starts, immediately you feel it.

But what is the way out? You become a Vedāntin. Immediately you are transported into the seventh heaven. Do you understand what I am talking about? Get rid of the trouble in the tooth and you feel very happy. When we remove all the teeth, your happiness is absolutely perfect. You will never have any problem at all, because you have no teeth. And it is a wonderful thing, because it is said, if you go to hell, you have to gnash your teeth. But since you are a Vedāntin — and a Vedāntin has no teeth — you don't need to gnash your teeth. See how wonderful Vedānta is.

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Being, Happiness, and the Need for Knowledge

What is the point we are talking about? Every being seeks these three things: it seeks to be, it seeks to be happy. But these two — being and happiness — can only be known through knowledge. When you are asleep, you are alive, but do you know you are alive? No. Only when you wake up do you know, "I am alive." Similarly, you may have all the conditions for happiness, but until you feel "I am happy," you will never become happy. You are what you feel. Suppose you are eating ordinary food but are extraordinarily happy inside. Or you are eating exotic food but are worried. What is the good of it? You must feel happiness. That feeling is called knowledge.

Is it possible to promote that feeling? Yes. That is what Vedānta proposes to do.

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The Opposites of Sat, Cit, and Ānanda

So, what is it that is threatening our existence? What is it that is threatening our happiness? What is it that is threatening our knowledge? The opposite of sat is asat. The opposite of cit is acit or ajñāna — cit means jñāna. The opposite of ānanda is duḥkha — and not only duḥkha, but also sukha. Because sukha always can change. When sukha changes, it becomes duḥkha. When duḥkha changes, it becomes sukha. Therefore, that which changes is the enemy of changelessness. In that sense, sukha and duḥkha are both opposites of ānanda. That is why we are advised to transcend both sukha and duḥkha.

Immediately our logic starts to work: if I go beyond duḥkha, that is fine. But if I go beyond sukha, am I going to be like a stone, a piece of carpet? The carpet doesn't experience sukha or duḥkha. Am I going to be like that carpet? No. We are told: you will enter into the realm of ānanda.

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Our Desire for Eternity and the Logical Paradox

So, we want to be — how long? Forever. Why? Because that is our nature. Not to be is not our nature. Not to know is not our nature. Not to be happy is not our nature. Our nature is sat, cit, and ānanda.

How do we know? Logically speaking, realistically, practically, we don't know that. But logically speaking, we are all intelligent people. We know we are not going to live for a long time. And we know that it is not possible to know everything. And we also know that it is not possible to be happy all the time.

In fact, it is a logical fallacy. How do you know you are happy? A few years back, a beautiful book came out from the USA — In Pursuit of Excellence. At the very beginning, the author — a very intelligent man — wrote: if everybody is excellent, how do you know who is excellent? There must be some people who are not excellent. Then only do you know, by contrast, isn't it? So how do you know you are happy, unless you experience its opposite?

Is it not illogical to expect these three things? In any case, practically, we never see a single person who lives forever, for eternity, who knows everything, and who is always happy. We will never find practically anybody.

Why do I say practically? Because yes, we can find persons like saints — Rāmakṛṣṇa, Holy Mother, Jesus Christ, or the Buddha. But the point is: do we find them always happy? They may be happy eternally, but do you know they are eternally happy? If Rāmakṛṣṇa comes and says, "I have a toothache," what would be your first impression? This man is not a happy man. So how can you say? He knows whether the tooth is there or not there — he is happy. But do you know that he is happy? That's why I said: we have to trust them. You don't know that they are eternally happy. That's what the scriptures tell us.

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Our Concept of God and Why It Points to Our True Nature

Can you imagine a God who is unhappy? And if you come across a being called God who is sometimes happy and sometimes not happy, would you consider him as God? Would you pray to him for eternal happiness? A person who is not himself happy all the time — would you pray to him? Our concept of God is: he is eternal, he is infinite, and he is eternally and infinitely happy. That means his existence, his knowledge, and his happiness are not limited by time, space, or causation.

Such a concept we all have. Why do we have this concept? Even an atheist has a concept of God — he only doesn't accept that there is a being called God. That is all. But if you ask him, how long do you want to live? He will say, "For eternity." And do you want to be sometimes happy and sometimes unhappy? He will say, "No, I want always to be happy." And do you want to know everything? I asked one such man. He said, "No, no, I am quite happy with what I know. I don't want to know everything." Then I asked him, "Do you want to know what your wife is thinking about you?" He said, "Yes."

One man — Gogol, you know? He was asked, how do you tackle a wife? The answer that immediately came was: "Good day, sir, we are also searching." So don't you want to know what the share value is going to be the next day? We all want to know, but we do not cherish the hope to know everything, because the instruments with which we want to know are severely limited — limited by time, limited by space, and limited by causation. But we have the desire, and we will never give up the desire.

Why is there this contradiction? We know it is not possible, and yet we don't want to give up hope. Why? Vedānta gives the answer: because you are that, even though you do not know.

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What Vedānta Gives Us: Faith and the First Step

So what does Vedānta give — what science and other things cannot give us? It tells us our true nature. But if you question, "How do I know what you say is true?" it says: have faith. Why do we need faith? Even in our day-to-day life we need faith. For example, you tell a child that there was such a person called Einstein. He had a wonderful brain, and it is possible to become Einstein-like. Do you think the child will ever say, "Yes, I will be like Einstein"? The child knows, "At this stage, I cannot be Einstein." But he hopes to be Einstein. So that hope is based upon what?

If you analyse psychologically and logically, whenever you use the word "hope," that word is preceded by another word. What is that? "I have faith." If you don't have faith, hope becomes hopeless. You will never hope. The moment you say, "I hope to have this," that means you have faith that it is possible for you to achieve that. Though unconsciously, we use many words like that.

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The Disease of Losing Faith

So Vedānta says you must have faith. One of the most degrading diseases of the modern human mind is what is called the loss of faith. It is a wonderful subject, but it is a separate subject. I won't go into it, but I will just give a hint.

Usually we use the word "faith" in the sense of religion — interfaith meetings, and so on. Faith means religion. Religion means having faith in God. Having faith in God means God is a future possibility. And logically, any possibility is embedded in its seed form. That is why we call it a seed. The seed of an apple has the possibility of becoming an apple tree. If it doesn't, then the seed is completely worthless — it is a fried seed.

Yes — one fried egg is talking to another fried egg: "Tough luck. From the frying pan into the fryer."

So whenever we use the word "hope," we use faith. Faith means that something is already there as a possibility — that is called potentiality. The seed has one hundred percent potentiality of becoming a wonderful tree, provided it is given an opportunity. That opportunity is what we call satsaṅga. Any opportunity that helps us to manifest our potentiality is called satsaṅga. So without faith it is never possible to live for even a minute. Why? Because what is going to happen in the next second, the next millisecond, we do not know. The roof may fall, or we may have a brain haemorrhage — so many things can happen. And yet what sustains us? The thought that it won't fall. Hopefully it has been constructed by a good contractor. Or if you are a devotee: "God is protecting me." If you don't believe in God but in the law of karma: "I have only good karma. It's not going to fall."

The law of karma is such a wonderful thing. After witnessing some events, I cannot but believe in the law of karma. In Haiti, one fellow fell into a room full of beer and chips. He survived for seven days and then was rescued. I have a doubt whether he really wanted to be rescued. After everything was finished, he might have wanted to be rescued — but at that point, whether he wanted to be rescued, I have doubts.

Anyway, the point is: our hope is a sure indication that there is a possibility within. Otherwise, for so long it would not stay. But our whole life we are cherishing this wish — even if you say, "I just want to be happy," you are pulling in the other two things: I want to be, and I want to know that I am happy. And that is what makes me happy.

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The False Division Between Worldly and Spiritual

This beautiful analysis helps us to clarify what is the meaning of human life. Everybody wants — even a worldly person. We make a false division: this is a spiritual person, this is a worldly person. Usually we mistake. A spiritual person wants God, wants Saccidānanda. A worldly person doesn't. But that is a completely false conclusion. A worldly person wants eternal life and eternal happiness as much as any spiritual person. In the desire of a spiritual person and a worldly person, there is absolutely no distinction whatsoever.

Where does the distinction lie? It is in the instruments that one uses. A worldly person wants to have infinite happiness through a finite thing. Just imagine — a hundred beautiful dishes are there, all free and of the best quality, but you are given only a small saucer: "Take as much as you want."

A Christian missionary once came and challenged: "Swami, your Hindu concept of hell is hopeless." He said, "What do you mean by hopeless? Hindu hell is the best." "Can you illustrate?" "Yes — supposing a glutton goes to hell. He will not be barbecued, roasted, dried, and turned over by the fire. No, nothing of that sort. The Hindu God will never torture you. He is a God — he does it in a very cultured, refined way. He says, 'You want to eat, my friend? I will provide you mountain-high food. First-class food. And a mountain-high body also I will give you — from mouth to legs it is only stomach.' The food is there. Eat as much as you like. But the mouth is like the eye of a needle." So, a worldly person doesn't say he wants less happiness — but the means he adopts are limited.

Whereas a spiritual person thinks he has a better instrument, or at least tries to better the instrument. What is that instrument? There is only one instrument. What is that? Mind. Cultivate the mind. Manre kṛṣikā janana — "If only you had cultivated, you would have harvested gold." Rām Prasād's one of the most beautiful songs.

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Viveka: The Essential Instrument

So we need guidance in how to cultivate the mind. In this process of cultivation, the single most important aid for us is called viveka. Viveka means how to separate the worthless from the essential. Even if you want to solve a problem, you must have a discriminating mind. I am not talking about solving problems — I am talking about the instrument which solves the problem. You must select the best instrument. Such an instrument, according to Vedānta, whichever path you are following, whichever religion you are following — it doesn't matter — is called viveka.

Viveka means separating the real from the unreal, the useful from the useless, the practical from the impractical. What is that instrument? Only knowledge. Viveka means ultimately right knowledge. When the mind is in the right condition, the knowledge automatically develops.

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Introduction to Dṛk-Dṛśya Viveka and the Thirteenth Chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā

In the last few days, we have been taking a very interesting Vedāntic text called Dṛk-Dṛśya Viveka. Today's talk should focus upon the thirteenth chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā, called Kṣetra-Kṣetrajña-Vibhāga Yoga. But exactly that is what Viveka also tells. It is only different names. Instead of using Kṣetrajña, here the word used is Dṛk. Instead of using Kṣetra, the word that is used is Dṛśya. But it is exactly the same.

Now let me continue. We have already advanced quite far — we have come almost to two-thirds of the book and are about to enter into the most practical part of it. So I thought, let us continue with this one, and I will give the essence of the thirteenth chapter as soon as we finish.

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Each Soul Is Potentially Divine: Svāmī Vivekānanda's Summary of Vedānta

So let me give a brief introduction, which I have already hinted at. What is it? We all want to be sat, to be cit, and to be ānanda. We want to be God-like. Is there such a thing? Yes, there is. How do we know? Because the scriptures tell us. This is what Svāmī Vivekānanda, the great Vedāntic propagator, came and told us: each soul is potentially divine.

Svāmī Vivekānanda summarised Vedānta as no one else has, literally, in four sentences. Let us recollect them.

The first sentence: each soul is potentially divine. It is a very significant statement. Don't jump to conclusions. We are divine — not yet. We are potentially divine. We are like seeds. So if someone gives you a good seed, it doesn't mean that immediately you start eating mangoes or apples. You have to cultivate it in the right way and wait patiently.

The second sentence: if you are potentially divine, the goal of life is to manifest this potential divinity and be free. What is freedom? Freedom is to manifest one's potentiality. What freedom does an apple seed have? Has it the freedom to become a mango? It has freedom only to become an apple. A mango seed has only freedom to become a good mango. That's all. So what is the meaning of the word "freedom"? Freedom means to become only oneself — to express and to remain completely as oneself. Not whatever I like to be, because if you are not what you are, then you will suffer. If you manifest your freedom in any way other than what you truly are, you will suffer.

I will give you a practical example. Suppose a scientifically minded person takes literature classes and wants to be a poet, but doesn't have poetic talents. What happens? It will be counterproductive. So this is the word we have to understand: we have freedom only to express, to become fully, whatever is our nature.

And does any one of us know what is our true nature? We only desire our nature, but we do not know for certainty that it is our nature. What is that? We all want to be divine — to live forever, to know everything, and to be happy forever. What is it? To be God, to be divine. That is what we all desire. But do we know whether that is possible? We do not know. We know what we desire. We do not know whether we can achieve it. That is where these great souls come and tell us: you are what you really desire to be. So that is where you have freedom.

Each soul is potentially divine — what a wonderful idea. If we are all divine, do we have any problems? You have no right to say: "Only I have the right to be divine." It is not possible to quarrel, because my divinity is possible only when I stop quarrelling with you and start loving you. Because to look upon yourself as my own self is called divinity. Otherwise how am I going to be infinite?

So what is freedom? Freedom is only to express, to try to be what one is — and, once having attained that, to maintain that position without slipping down. Anything that we do that goes counter to expressing our own real nature is counterproductive. But for some reason we all do what we do not wish to do. We all want to be happy but make tremendous efforts to be unhappy. We go out of our way to produce conditions for our own suffering. This is why most of us suffer — we call it karmaphala. The moment you entertain and cherish a negative idea, what are you trying to do? Go counter to your own nature.

But we know this intellectually many times, and yet we do not seem to have any control over it. We know what we should be and what we should do, but as Oscar Wilde once expressed it: "I can resist anything except temptation." Something, as it were, is covering our eyes, binding our hands and feet, and not allowing us to do what we want to do.

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Māyā: The Power That Seems to Bind

So Vedānta has to give some name for that. This demon — whatever you call it — they call it māyā. This strange, wonderful power. What does māyā mean? Māyā means yā mā — that which is not there. It is not there, yet it is there. If you know it, it is not there. If you don't know it, it is there. As long as you do not know, it is there. But the moment you come to know, it is not there. You wonder — where has it gone? Because it is called ajñāna. When jñāna comes, where does ajñāna go? We don't know where it has gone. It has not run somewhere here or there.

Unable to understand this, we have become — to use a popular Telugu expression — Paramānandayā Śiṣyas. That is the tragedy of life. There was one guru called Paramānandayā, and he had disciples — that's why they are called Paramānandayā Śiṣyas. What happened? One day a disciple came to him at night. It was dark. He said, "Gurujī, it is so dark. What shall I do? I am frightened." He said, "Light the lamp." So he lit the lamp. "Gurujī, where shall I place this lamp?" He said, "Wherever there is darkness, place it." So he saw — there is the lamp, and there is darkness. So he ran there. But when he went there, mysteriously, the darkness was now here. Very soon, he died of a heart attack, because he was trying to place his lamp where there is darkness.

So we should never become Paramānandayā Śiṣyas. We should be intelligent. And intelligence starts with the first step called faith, called śraddhā.

Because you don't know. You have to place your faith in somebody. You can't go on doubting and saying: "First you prove it, and then I will follow." Suppose there is darkness and you ask somebody, "How can I get rid of this darkness?" And that person tells you, "Light the lamp." And you say: "Prove to me first that lighting the lamp will remove the darkness." If he proves it, where is the need for him to light the lamp? So, proof won't come first. What comes first? Faith.

We are full of doubts. But we don't doubt a drunkard. We don't doubt a cheat. You go on putting your pension funds in every Tom, Dick, and Harry's fund because they promise eight percent interest — and yet you don't have faith in the scriptures. What a pitiful condition. We must have faith. Faith is what defines a man.

And if a man has faith, he can never truly be cheated, because faith itself is a manifestation of God. Faith is not something which has to prove something else. Faith itself is the proof of something which we cannot see. That is why Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa says: when a man has achieved faith, he has achieved everything. When a person has faith that "I am a happy person," you don't need any other proof. So this is our answer to atheists. The atheist says, "There is no proof of God." And the answer is: there is no need for proof of God.

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The Transforming Power of Faith

If a person has faith, then that faith affects him. What is the nature of faith? Faith totally affects a person — much more powerfully than a drug or a drink. Suppose a person says, "I see a ghost." No one else sees it. Only one person says it. And you laugh and say, "You are a stupid fellow, there is no ghost." That is not the point. The point is: he is affected. Whether the ghost is real or unreal, true or untrue — that is not the point. The point is, he believes he is seeing the ghost. He gets frightened.

Similarly, if a person says, "I believe in God," and he gets consolation, gets peace of mind, is quite happy, and is able to counter the problems of life very nicely — what is your headache? That is exactly what faith is. Faith transforms a person. I am not talking about God — I am talking about faith in God. If a person has that faith and his idea of God is "since God is looking after me, I am a very happy person" — then only a person who has faith, whether his conditions are favourable or not, remains happy. If he is happy, that proves God exists. Faith itself is a proof of God's existence, or of whatever a person believes.

That is why faith is the very first step. And for faith you cannot again seek proof — that is foolishness. Faith itself is the proof. Either you have it or you don't have it.

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Scripture as Doctor: Diagnosis, Prescription, and How to Follow It

Having faith, you then approach the scripture or a wise man or a holy man and tell him, "I want to be happy. Tell me how I can be." He says yes. If you go to a doctor with a problem, what does he do? First, he tests. Second, he diagnoses your problem. Third, he prescribes a medication. These are the three steps. If you approach the scripture also, it first analyses your problem. Already it has analysed your problem — long before you were born, it analysed your problem, knows the remedy, and prescribes how to use it. And it is even more important to know how to use the prescription than to get the right prescription.

A stout woman went to a doctor. "I am very fat. Make me thin." So the doctor prescribed a diet. After one month, she came back having doubled in size. The doctor said, "Are you taking my diet prescription?" She said, "Yes, doctor. You put me in a very difficult position. I have to eat my normal diet, and then eat also the prescribed diet."

It is very important how to follow the prescription. Without giving up your old habits, trying to develop new ones is never going to work. So what is the diagnosis? The diagnosis is called māyā — misunderstanding, wrong understanding. We see things and we mistake their nature.

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The Third and Fourth Sentences of Svāmī Vivekānanda's Summary

Now the third sentence: manifest this divinity either through work or worship or psychic control or philosophy — by one, or more, or all of these put together — and be free. So you can take any one. Any one will do. Or if you wish, take two, or all four. How many paths are there? Only four. What are they called? Karma Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, Rāja Yoga, Jñāna Yoga. Take any one or two or all the four. It doesn't matter — according to your capacity, follow sincerely, and you will be free.

The last sentence — the summarisation of Vedānta, very important, even more important than the other three — says: this being free is the only thing that counts. This is the whole of religion. Doctrines, dogmas, churches, books, ceremonials, rituals — all these are but secondary details. Don't focus on them. They are necessary — take their help. Like crutches: if you are injured, you take the crutches. Or if you are building a house, you use scaffolding. But don't keep the scaffolding — as soon as the building is constructed, remove it, otherwise it itself will become an obstruction.

The last sentence is even more important. Why? Because we are all clinging to the crutches and never getting out of them. Take the help — they are necessary — but you must know when to give them up, otherwise you are not going anywhere.

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Bondage Is a Feeling, Not a Reality

So this viveka — let us come back to it. What is it? We seem to be bound. That is the key word: seem to be bound, not really bound. It is all in our mind. The bondage is a feeling. A feeling is an idea. An idea is a thought. This thought is in the mind. Therefore, get rid of the thought. It is not the reality.

So Vedānta gives us a beautiful illustration to make this point clear. In semi-darkness you see something and you mistake it for a snake. Actually, it is nothing but a rope. Mistaking a rope for a snake doesn't make it a snake. It only seems like a snake. The rope exists there. Where does the snake exist? In our mind — in the beholder's mind. It is an idea, not a reality. Get rid of this idea.

To get rid of that idea, you can't simply say, "I will get rid of this idea," and it goes. No, it won't go like that. How will it go? You bring the light. Then you see: "Oh, this is not a snake. This is a rope." Then your fear goes away. That is the only way your fear goes away. The wrong idea is in our mind, and the right idea also should come into our mind. You can go on beating that rope-snake for eternity — it is not going to happen. But bring the light. Light means knowledge. Immediately the snake disappears. The idea of the snake disappears and the correct understanding of what is there comes.

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Bondage Is Both Internal and External

So how to bring about this? Now, this bondage is manifested in two forms: internal and external.

Internally, we are constantly identifying with our ideas. Our ideas are like objects outside. Our mind is like ourselves seeing outside objects. So internally there are two: there is one observer and one observed — the seer and the seen. Every time we see, we are getting mixed up.

Externally: you see something. You can't say it is a rope until you bring the light. Until that time, you can only see the snake. You don't say: "First I saw the rope, then the rope became a snake, and now we will get rid of the snake." That will not happen. The wrong idea has come because you didn't have the right idea. We are unfortunately born with this.

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The Internal Example: Words and Thoughts as Waves in the Mind

So internally, an example is given. Suppose somebody utters harsh words towards you. What happens? Those words enter in the form of sounds and create a wave in the lake of the mind — just as when a boat goes, the whole lake breaks into ripples. Our calm mind, we are very calm, enjoying the beautiful day — suddenly somebody says, "You rogue!" Or something like that. You know, one man lost his presidential candidacy just by saying "you people." A few years back, that fellow immediately resigned because he was addressing a group in a way that seemed exclusionary. We only say "we people" one time — that is the advantage of teamwork. When something goes wrong, you can blame everybody. If you are the boss, he says "you people." If you are a team worker, say "we people." Never say, "I have gone wrong." Say, "We have gone wrong." That is the only time you use "we" very nicely.

So a wave comes into the mind. It is a beautiful incident worth remembering. Once my predecessor, Svāmī Bhāviyānanda, was talking with someone who had come to see him. Svāmī was talking about the power of mantras. The man said, "No, Svāmī, I don't believe there is any power in the mantra." Svāmī's face became red and he said, "You rascal!" The man was not even a devotee — perhaps it was his first visit. The moment Svāmī uttered "you rascal," immediately that fellow's blood pressure rushed up, his face became red. Immediately Svāmī laughed and said, "See — even when I said 'you rascal,' how much power these words have. And mantras — don't you think they have power?" What a wonderful thing. How words are making us slaves every moment. "Honey, I love you" — even if that fellow is sharpening a knife — and immediately your whole face blooms like a lotus. How foolish we are. We are slaves to words, not even to sincere feelings.

So we should not really be influenced by them. Some people praise us, some people criticise us, and this is going on all the time. Nobody is praised all the time, nobody is criticised all the time. But when a harsh word comes — "you rogue" or something — and immediately the citta becomes agitated. There is nothing wrong with that either. But quickly you become that vṛtti. What happens then? There is a thought of anger, and now you were observing — but before you knew it, you became one with it. Instead of saying, "There is a thought of anger in my mind," what do you say? "I am angry." Your whole face, your heart, your muscles, your adrenaline — everything shows it in a second.

That is an example to show you: you have the capacity to separate, and to say, "Okay, there is a bad thought in the mind." First you observe, and then afterwards decide what to do and what not to do. That is what masters do. The slaves immediately become identified.

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You Are Already a Master of Meditation

But there is also a wonderful point for illustrating something else. People often come to me and say, "Teach me about meditation." I say, "I don't need to teach, because you are already a master of meditation." "Am I a master of meditation?" Yes. What is meditation? To become completely one with any thought that arises in the mind is mastery of meditation. And whenever somebody says "you are a rogue," immediately you become one with that thought. You have developed the technique. Any wrong thought — you are completely identified with it. Or sometimes good thoughts also. Usually the children are unmanageable and not so loving. You go and say, "I love you, I love you" — and there is no reply. But come the 24th of December, how many times they tell you, "Mom, I love you! Dad, I love you!" until you are tired. But it also creates a frightful kind of love — because the moment they embrace you and say "Mom, I love you," your heart will tap, and in your eyes the chequebook balances that.

So, we are already masters. We are only identifying with the wrong end of things. We know the technique of how to identify — now, use that technique with the good things. That is where spiritual practice is necessary. Our mind is ready, but it has to be directed.

Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa used to say, when somebody asked him, "When would I realise God?" He said: "The love of a chaste woman for her husband, the love of a mother for her only child, the love of a miser for worldly things — if these three loves are combined and directed towards God, then immediately you will realise God."

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This World as a School for Developing Love

What does it mean? It means this world is created for us to develop love. So you love your partner, your husband or your wife, you love your children — love to the extent that is possible. But do not stop there. Stopping there is called worldliness — putting a limitation. "I won't love anybody else." Love to the extent that is possible. And then what should you do? It is like sharpening an arrow or a knife — this practice of loving a wife, loving a husband, loving children, loving other people. It sharpens the instrument. The instrument is being trained in how to love. But now the purpose is to direct it towards your own self, your true self. That is why God has created this world — not for nothing, not as an obstruction. This is a wonderful school.

If someone is criticising you, it is a wonderful lesson. Though it is not pleasurable — it is a very painful thing — that is the purpose. If you can stand this criticism and not only not be affected adversely, but remain very happy, then nothing in this world — no adversity, no negativity — can ever affect you.

Once you learn to manage the internal enemies — the six internal enemies: kāma, krodha, lobha, moha, mada, mātsarya — we suffer from one or another of these sixfold negative emotional reactions. They are one and the same, but expressed in six different ways. Kāma turns into krodha, krodha turns into lobha, lobha turns into moha, moha turns into mada, mada turns into mātsarya, and mātsarya turns back into any one of these depending on the occasion. If we can stand them, then that force can also be added to our positive force. And then the purpose is not merely to gather them, but to redirect them towards God.

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The Six Meditations of Dṛk-Dṛśya Viveka

So internally we have to separate dṛk and dṛśya. Externally we have to separate the divinity that is behind every object. For this purpose, six meditations are given as directions for our all-round internal and external development.

Briefly, what are these six? Very briefly — I will elaborate tomorrow morning, and that would be the best thing to do.

First of all, we have two broad categories: Savikalpa Samādhi and Nirvikalpa Samādhi. And secondly: internal and external. Then: Dṛśyānuviddha and Śabdānuviddha. Internal Dṛśyānuviddha, external Dṛśyānuviddha; internal Śabdānuviddha and external Śabdānuviddha.

Don't get confused — I am going to clarify this in simple words.

What Is Savikalpa and Nirvikalpa?

Savikalpa means there is a division between the meditator and the meditated. Nirvikalpa means that such a division doesn't exist. Then, internal and external — each is of two types: Dṛśyānuviddha and Śabdānuviddha.

What do these mean? Dṛśya means any thought that passes through our mind. I gave just now one example: the moment somebody criticises us, there is a negative wave in the citta or mind, and immediately the "I" — which knows that this is a thought — doesn't stop there. It jumps into the lake and becomes one with the agitation. "I am angry," instead of observing it.

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1. Āntarika Savikalpa Dṛśyānuviddha Samādhi

What is the first savikalpa internal meditation? You remain separate and say: "What is the thought that is coming? Oh, there is an angry thought — that fellow uttered this information. It is all information. That fellow uttered this information that I am a bad fellow. And there is an emotion called anger rising. The mind is agitated, the body is agitated." So separate the dṛśya — these thoughts — and do not identify. That is why in English they say: before you react, count to ten.

So one fellow was insulted — he had heard this teaching that you should count to ten before you react. Someone had uttered something. He had to count to ten. There is a way of counting — he couldn't wait that long. He counted, but before anybody could blink, he went and gave one big slap. That is not counting. You have to count very slowly and leisurely. That means you are watching: "Oh, there is a thought, there is a thought, there is a thought. I am about to react, I am about to react. No, no, no." If you practice, it will happen.

So this separation — previously we were becoming one with the thoughts, now we want to separate the observer from the observed. This is called dṛk and dṛśya. Dṛk is the seer. Dṛśya is what is seen — here, all the internal thoughts. It is actually dṛśya only. Why? Because we can never think abstract thoughts. See, if you see a banana in your thought — "banana" — how does that thought appear to you? Yellow, and this big. And if you are hungry, it appears to be quite ripe. But if you are planning to eat it tomorrow or the day after, it will appear to be a little greenish. So separate. This is called Dṛśyānuviddha, Āntarika, Savikalpa Samādhi.

You have separated. You practice this meditation. This is the first step. It takes a long time. Then you say: "I am the witness, and these are the things I am witnessing. The dṛśya is separated from the dṛk. The dṛśya is still there, but the dṛk is not getting identified with the dṛśya." Now, it is called Dṛśyānuviddha Samādhi — because you are taking the help of the dṛśyas to separate the dṛk, since if there are no thoughts, how would you separate yourself?

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2. Āntarika Savikalpa Śabdānuviddha Samādhi

Then progress to the next step. What is the next step? Śabdānuviddha, Āntarika, Savikalpa Samādhi. What is that? Now: I am the dṛk. I can see that there are thoughts in front of me. That means — if I can see them, whatever I can experience, I am different from it. This is the point.

In the English language we use the words "I" and "my." The moment you say "my," it is not "I." "My book" — I am not the book. I have a book. I don't say "I am a book." Otherwise it is dangerous. "I have a donkey" — and if you love your donkey and anybody touches your donkey, you feel it more than the donkey did.

So what is the next? Śabdānuviddha. I can see. I am the observer. What is my nature? Who am I? Do I know about myself? I don't, because all the time what am I doing? I am identifying myself: "I am a man, I am a woman, I am young, I am old, I am beautiful." So, I know I am separate, but I don't know what is my nature. How will I know?

That is when śabda comes. What is śabda? Not merely sound. Śabda here means Śabda-pramāṇa, Veda-pramāṇa, Śāstra-pramāṇa — scriptural teaching. What is the scripture telling? That you are God. As it comes in the book itself: Asaṅgaḥ aham, I am unattached. Nirvikāraḥ, I am changeless. Nityaḥ, I am eternal. Janma-mṛtyu-rahitaḥ — free from birth and death. And so on and so forth.

Take one by one these descriptions and focus your meditation upon them. That is called Śabda-pramāṇa. How wonderful it is.

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3. Āntarika Nirvikalpa Samādhi

Then Āntarika Nirvikalpa Samādhi. What is that? Very briefly, what it means is this. There is a potter making a pot. He uses a wheel. Now and then he spins it. He is not continuously spinning it. Then he throws away the stick. What happens to the wheel? It goes on rotating. In the same way, if you go on saying Rāma, Rāma, Rāma for some time, then you stop saying it — but your mind is still continuing. If you practice enough, it is saying it all the time.

Now, in the first meditation, you are separating yourself from the thoughts. In the second meditation, you are saying: "Asaṅgaḥ aham, Nirvikāraḥ aham, Nityaḥ aham, Janma-mṛtyu-rahitaḥ aham," and so on. By doing this japa, after some time you stop doing japa, but by itself the thought is moving forward — like a wheel that has been set in motion. That which is moving without our doing any effort is called Āntarika Nirvikalpa Samādhi.

If you do it long enough, you will never forget it. That is why we are asked to do Bhagavan-nāma-japa. How long can you do it? You can't do it for a very long time — but if you do it for a sufficiently long time, it takes over. In the old times, if you want to start a car, you put in the crank handle in the front and go on turning. How long? Until it catches and becomes self-moving. Our doing japa is like the self-starter. If you do it sufficiently, there is enough fuel — and it goes on moving by itself. This is called ajapā-japam. So it goes on: Asaṅgaḥ aham, Nirvikalpāḥ aham, Janma-mṛtyu-rahitaḥ aham. It goes on.

That is called Nirvikalpa, because there is no dṛśya, there is no conscious effort of thinking, but the thought process is going on and on. Another example: some children can't sleep alone — they are afraid. The mother sits by them and keeps telling a story, doing like this, and the child slowly falls asleep. It is not merely that it falls asleep — it has the sense: "My mother is here. I have nothing to worry about." When it goes to sleep happily, it doesn't know whether the mother is there or gone. But happily, that sense of comfort continues until it wakes up suddenly and finds there is no mother — and it starts crying. Then immediately the mother comes: "I am here, darling, don't worry."

So this Nirvikalpa Samādhi means a thought movement that goes on all by itself after a lot of japa and other practices. That is called Āntarika Nirvikalpa Samādhi.

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The Same Process Applied Externally

The same process is applied in the external world. Why? I will very briefly tell you.

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4. Bāhya Savikalpa Dṛśyānuviddha Samādhi

Now, Bāhya Savikalpa Samādhi — again of two types: Dṛśyānuviddha and Śabdānuviddha. What is Dṛśyānuviddha? In the internal world, it is thoughts — that is dṛśya, with dṛk and dṛśya. In the external world, it is called jagat — the world, prapañca. "I am seeing you, you are seeing me, you are seeing all these things."

But what did we study here? Every object that we encounter has five elements. What are those five? Sat, cit, ānanda, nāma, and rūpa. So every object our eyes or ears encounter has got these five characteristics. But what are we focusing upon? Only nāma and rūpa. We are not focusing on the sat, cit, ānanda.

Now you shift the balance. Instead of saying "I have a body, and I am the body, and I have a soul," shift the focus and say: "I am the soul, but I have a body." Focus on what is behind this carpet — it exists, and you are knowing it, and it is giving happiness. You know — this floor: you sit on it for some time, and then it starts pinching you. And then somebody brings a cushion. Ānanda! See — asti, bhāti, priyam. Suddenly my happiness has grown a lot. And then I see what is the cause of my happiness. First I see: there is the cushion. The second: I see how soft it is — knowledge. Third: not only did it remove my pain, but how wonderfully it is helping me.

Sometimes you are trying to sleep and you feel cold. You have not woken up but you are not deeply asleep — you are tossing. Then somebody, your mother or somebody, puts a nice warm blanket over you. Then immediately you sense there is something very soft, very cosy and warm. And then what ānanda it is giving.

This is called Bāhya Savikalpa Dṛśyānuviddha Samādhi — that means: every object you encounter, you say: "You are divine, potentially divine. But in fact you are divine — God manifest, coming in this particular nāma and rūpa." It is difficult, because we are accustomed to the opposite. First we say nāma, rūpa, and afterwards we say about God. So much are we obsessed with nāma and rūpa. What is inside, we don't know — the package is the packaging. What is inside God alone knows. But the packaging is considered most important — you know this is our modern culture. That is why the packaging costs much more than what is inside.

What is packaging? Nāma and rūpa. That is not most important. What is important is what is inside the nāma and rūpa. Even we, in reality, never mistake nāma and rūpa — we are seeking what is inside it. That is really what attracts us. But that is a different subject, and I am not going into it now.

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5. Bāhya Savikalpa Śabdānuviddha Samādhi

Now, what is Bāhya Savikalpa Śabdānuviddha Samādhi? Yes, I see that there is an element of Saccidānanda in every object. What is the nature of that Saccidānanda or Brahman? Again, here śabda means scriptural teachings. Who is Brahman? What are his qualities? Take these qualities one by one and focus: "What is this Brahman?" That is called Śabdānuviddha, Bāhya, Savikalpa Samādhi. This is usually practised in the form of Ahaṃ Brahmāsmi, Tattvamasi, and so on.

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6. Bāhya Nirvikalpa Samādhi

When you go on consciously meditating like this, after some time that meditation becomes unconscious and continuous. That is called Bāhya Nirvikalpa Samādhi. Vikalpa means you are trying to think something. Nirvikalpa means the agent — the "you" who is trying — is absent. The thought process is going on. You are only identifying with the resultant of the thought; you are not trying to produce that thought.

Now, as an example: the scriptures tell us that we are all human beings. "I am a man, I am a man, I am a woman, I am a woman." Are you trying to do japa of this? Or is it continuing in every state? It is continuing. How did it come to be so?

Here is an interesting point about how much we are conditioned. As one comic was telling: "Until I was thirteen years old, I thought my name was 'shut up.'" You see — the parents and others, whenever he tried to open his mouth, said, "Hey, shut up!" So he came to believe that was his name for a long time.

Take this example: suppose you are born into one family — a Christian family, a Muslim family, whatever — but you are being brought up in a Hindu family. From the beginning your parents say, "We are Hindus, we are Hindus." So if somebody asks you, "Who are you?" what do you say? "I am a Hindu." Were you born Hindu? No. Then how did you come to say "I am a Hindu"? Because you have been hearing it constantly. Similarly, "I am an Indian, I am an Indian, I am an Indian." And "I am this, I am this." How do you know? In exactly the same way, somebody is telling you "you are a human being, you are a human being, you are a man, you are a woman." How do you know it is not the same process? It is exactly the same process.

Anyway, a funny example: suppose the names were reversed from the beginning — a man is called "woman" and a woman is called "man." From birth a man is told, "You are a woman, you are a woman, you are a woman." Afterwards, what will he say? See — habit makes us.

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The Culmination: Ahaṃ Brahmāsmi

What is the point? If you train the mind to go on thinking some noble thought, afterwards without your effort that thought will continue without any interference. And if you do it sufficiently, it goes on your whole life — like "I am a man." When will that thought stop? So long as you are conscious, the thought will automatically be there. In fact, if somebody says you are not a man, you get very angry, isn't it?

So that is the example to show: if we go on meditating, first to separate — "You are not a human being, but you are Saccidānanda in the rūpa and nāma of a human being" — that is the Bāhya Dṛśyānuviddha Savikalpa Samādhi. Then, if you say, "I am Saccidānanda," what do these words mean? What is the meaning of Saccidānanda? Take the help of scriptural descriptions. In the Bhagavad Gītā, what it says — that the fire doesn't burn him, the water doesn't wet him, no weapons can pierce him — these descriptions are there for meditation. Take these scripture-taught words and apply them to understand what is called Brahman. That is called Bāhya Śabdānuviddha Savikalpa Samādhi.

And if we do that for a sufficient length of time, a time will come when, without your knowing it, that thought process continues. And when it continues, then you will say Ahaṃ Brahmāsmi.

So how do these two — we said internal meditations, three, and external meditations, three — culminate? The internal final meditation is: "I am asaṅgaḥ, the seer (dṛk)." Externally: "I am asaṅgaḥ, Brahman." At that point, "I as the asaṅga dṛk" is exactly the same as "the asaṅga Brahman." Then: Ahaṃ Brahmāsmi. Inside and outside are both exactly the same. With that, sādhana becomes complete.

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The Fruit of This Knowledge

Then what happens? The author brings in a very beautiful Upaniṣadic statement to illustrate this. What does he say? When this knowledge comes — that I am Brahman — then all ignorance is destroyed. All doubts are totally destroyed. Then all karmaphala comes to an end. Only when I realise "I am Brahman."

These are the six ways of harmonising the internal and the external. Purify the internal, purify the external. Then inside pure, outside pure. The inside purity becomes one with the outside purity. And that is the culmination of spiritual sādhana.

Then only we realise that our manifestation is complete — we are not potentially divine, we are divine. That is the goal of life, and that beautiful truth has been brought out in this book.

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Closing Remarks and What Comes Next

In some more detail, tomorrow morning I will deal with it. And then we will take up the Bhagavad Gītā teaching. I will try to summarise it, because it is exactly the same subject but presented in slightly different words — kṣetra and kṣetrajña.

Oṃ Śāntiḥ Śāntiḥ Śāntiḥ.