Brihadaranyaka Upanishad Ch.1.4 Lecture 24 on 12 April 2026
Full Transcript (Not Corrected)
Opening Invocation
ॐ जननीम् शरदाम् देविम् रामक्रिष्णम् जगत् गुर्म्
पादपद्मे तयोः स्रित्वाः प्रणमामि मुहुरुमु
Oṁ jananīṁ śaraḍhāṁ deveṁ rāmakriṣṇam jagad-gurum
pādapadmetayosritvā pranamāmi-muhurumuhu
ॐ पूर्णमदः पूर्णमिदं पूर्णात् पूर्णमुदच्यते
पूर्णस्य पूर्णमादाय पूर्णमेवावशिष्यते
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः
OM PŪRṆAMADAḤ PŪRṆAMIDAM PŪRṆĀT PŪRṆAMUDACYATE PŪRṆASYA PŪRṆAMĀDĀYA PŪRṆAMEVA VAŚIṢYATE OM ŚĀNTI ŚĀNTI ŚĀNTIH
OM That Brahman is infinite, and this universe is also infinite. The infinite proceeds from the infinite. Taking the infinitude of the infinite universe, it remains as the infinite Brahman alone.
OM Peace, Peace, Peace be unto all.
Recap: The Self Enters All Bodies
We are studying the fourth section of the first chapter of the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad. The important point we discussed in our last class was that, having created, the Self entered everything — all bodies up to the very tips of the nails. The Upaniṣad gives a small analogy: like a razor which is kept in a most fitting case. That is to convey to us that there are no two things called the case and the razor. It means everything is Brahman.
Then what happened? He realised. What did he realise? He is all. He is everything. So he said, "Having created, I realised that I am everything." If we understand that statement, it means all of us are Brahman only. Anything that is made up of clay cannot be anything other than clay. Anything that is made up of gold cannot be anything other than gold.
The Danger of Seeing God as Separate: Becoming "Like an Animal to the Gods"
That is why the Upaniṣad warns us: if anyone, because of avidyā or māyā, looks upon God as different from oneself — as a deity to be worshipped externally — one becomes like an animal to the gods. That is, one becomes a servant to his own ignorance. This is beautifully explained later on.
But what it means here, in a sense: God means what? First condition — anybody who is separate from us, and anybody about whom we think, "He is superior to me in strength, in beauty, in power, in position, in possessions." So what do we become? We start to depend upon them. A baby depends upon the mother. A poor man depends upon the society. A weak person depends upon the stronger person, and so on.
So here, God means what? He who can help — he is a god, whether it be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a professor, or a musician, or anybody. That is what we are doing. And here the Upaniṣad gives that the gods do not wish us to become free. Just as if a man had possessed a thousand cows like Yājñavalkya, and if one of the cows is missing, he goes after that missing cow — he cannot take rest until that cow is found, because he doesn't want to lose the service of even one cow.
Born Slaves: Dependence and the Five Kośas
So in this world, we are dependent upon everything. We are born slaves. That is why it is said our body itself is made up of food. We are born of food, we are sustained by food, and we are food, and we go back to food. And we can apply the same thing to all the five kośas. Every kośa is dependent upon every other kośa. This is a point we have to note down.
We think that the Ānandamaya kośa, being the superiormost kośa, is not dependent. No. Suppose there is a person. He is weak. He cannot move. But he has a desire: "I want to eat a biscuit, or a lozenge, or anything for that matter." But he can't move. So he has to call somebody and say, "Would you kindly give it to me?"
That is why, especially in the West — but the same disease is spreading all over the world, including India — people feel embarrassed to be served by their own grandchildren or children in old age. They think it is hurting their egotism: "I am dependent upon you." Any dependence — a foreign government rules, we are dependents. So any dependence is slavery. And the people upon whom we depend, those are called gods. And these gods do not want to lose anybody. That is what this Upaniṣad wants to point out. One becomes like an animal to the gods — meaning one becomes a servant because of his own ignorance.
Slavery to the Non-Self: Living and Non-Living
What is this ignorance? I am considering myself as separate from the other one. Not only slavery to living beings — we also have to consider how many non-living things we have become slavish to. A good house — we are slaves to cars. Even more slavish to our mobile phones. Slavish to everything: living and non-living.
And that is why the Upaniṣad tells us: slavishness is anātma. Depending upon anātma. Seeing anything other than me as something different from me — and not only different, but thinking that I am dependent upon it, considering the other object as superior to me, and thinking I cannot survive, I cannot obtain anything, I cannot be a happy person — that slavish mentality leads to the real suffering, which is to feel that I am bound.
But the Upaniṣad tells us there is nothing separate. The living, the non-living — this is the very core of Advaita, non-duality.
Śaṅkarācārya: The Difference Between Individual and Brahman Is Ignorance Alone
So Śaṅkarācārya emphasises that the difference between the individual and Brahman doesn't really exist. It is caused only by ignorance — by my ignorance, thinking that I am separate from Brahman. The moment I realise "I am Brahman, I am the all," all fear and all limitation vanish. Remember, earlier we have discussed: fear comes from the second. And this is expressed in the fifth mantra of this fourth section.
Creation as Projection, Not Production
After this vast projection — actually, this word projection is a very important word. The moment we hear "creation," like a potter creating a pot, our whole understanding becomes awry. But the moment we realise it is a projection — a cinema film machine is projecting light and making it pass through a film, and what we are experiencing is nothing but the manifest projection of that light — everything is light.
How do we know? Because you just stop the film machine moving, and only pure light will be there. That is why, before the cinema starts, there is a pure white screen. After the cinema ends, there is a pure white screen. Without that screen, no projection will become visible, experienceable. What is that screen? That is compared to our pure mind. And what reveals that screen? Pure consciousness.
So this is the fifth mantra. And anybody, after studying this Upaniṣad, after getting this instruction, this valuable teaching — he first hears it with faith, then he ponders over it (that is called Upāsanā), and he realises it. Like Brahman realised, "I am everything." When we realise "I am everything," there would be no difference between Brahman and me. So anyone — not only Brahman, any person — ya evaṃ veda, he understands, "I am Brahman, because I am a projection of Brahman. A projection of Brahman is non-separate from Brahman." He remains with that self-knowledge.
The Seventh Mantra: From the Unmanifest to the Manifest
And then, in the sixth mantra, we get something about creation — but I did not give importance to that. So we will move to the seventh mantra.
Here it is said: first of all, this creation remained unmanifest. That is called avyākṛta. Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa calls it avyakta. What is birth? The unmanifest becoming manifest. And what is death? The manifest going back into its source, its cause. That is called death.
"Why are you so much grieving about this fact? There is no death. Bhīṣma is not going to die. Droṇa is not going to die. And you are not going to die. Not only that, Duryodhana is not going to die. You have taken a vow: 'I am going to kill Duryodhana and all his ninety-nine brothers.' No — that is not going to happen. You are going to kill only the outer layers, the dresses."
The Kośas as Coverings: Why Even Ānandamaya Kośa Is a Cover
Every kośa is a dress. However fine it is, it doesn't reveal what we really are. That which covers our real nature is called a kośa. Even the Ānandamaya kośa is a cover. Why is it called a cover? First of all, it is experienceable. Anything experienceable — there is a division between the experiencer and the experienced, the subject and the object.
So if I am deriving ānanda from the reflection of that Brahmānanda in my own purified mind, I am only looking at the reflection in the mirror of Brahmānanda. I have to break that mirror. Then the distinction, the separation between jīva and paramātma, vanishes. Until that time, the mirror may be the cleanest mirror and may show me as experiencing ānanda — but since it is a kośa, a kośa being like a scabbard, like a case which houses the treasure, we will have to overcome it, destroy it. Destroying means knowing that it is only my ignorance which is appearing as the pañca kośas. There are no real, concrete pañca kośas.
So this supports the Bhagavad Gītā's view. Birth, or sṛṣṭi, creation, is nothing but the unmanifest becoming manifest.
Transaction Requires Manifestation: Nāma and Rūpa
What is the problem? The unmanifest is non-transactional. You cannot — like butter, it is unmanifest in the milk, but you cannot put it on your piece of toast and enjoy it. You will have to separate it. Similarly, this kośa separates us from Bhagavān. So everything is unmanifest. For transactional purposes, what remains invisible and non-transactional — if it has to become transactional, it has to become manifest.
So then, from this unmanifest world, this manifest world has come. That is what the seventh mantra wants to explain. This universe, before creation, remained undifferentiated. Then it became differentiated into form and name. And therefore it was called such and such. "This is a mango tree." That mango tree is a form, and the word "mango tree" is a name. The name and the named — there is no difference. God and his name, there is no difference. But the difference is: the named is thought of as an object, and the name is the way to think about that object. The name is a thought; the named is an object.
Kālidāsa's Prayer: The Inseparability of Vāk and Artha
This beautiful psychological insight is captured by Kālidāsa. Before he commenced writing the Raghuvaṃśa, he prays to Śiva and Pārvatī. Vāk means speech — speech means name. Artha means the object — the named. Just as an object and its name are inseparable, so Pārvatī and Parameśvara are the mother and father of this entire universe. They are also inseparable. In other words, Brahman and Śakti are indifferent — you cannot separate them. You can think of them as separate in concept, but in reality you cannot separate them.
"So I am going to write this beautiful poem called Raghuvaṃśa. Therefore, O mother and father — you are the creator and creatrix of this entire universe, and you are inseparable — this world also is inseparable, the object and its name are inseparable. So for the sake of beautiful poetry, the appropriate words should come from the depths of my mind, come to me in the form of thoughts, and I will put those thoughts as my written poem, the Raghuvaṃśa."
The World as Name, Form, and Purpose
So in the beginning, avyākṛta means name and form are not there. But now they have become manifest, visible, experienceable, transactional. And therefore, how are they transactional? For example, you look at any object — you see nāma and rūpa, that is all you see. You see the form and you give it a name to separate it from other objects. And then only, after having the knowledge "this is such and such an object," do we start thinking: "How does it serve my purpose?"
If there are two glasses, and in rich people's houses certain glasses are separated and hung upside down — they are created like that, called wine glasses — while if somebody wants to drink water, there will be an ordinary glass. They don't keep them upside down hanging. So because they drink from the hanging glasses, in course of time, they also become hanged.
So this world was unmanifest and non-transactional. Without transaction, we cannot survive. Therefore, everything that is created is divided into nāma and rūpa. And we have to add a purpose. So this is how creation means only name and form.
I am just reminding you: the great scholar Vidyāraṇya said, "What is Brahman? Brahman is nothing but Sat, Cit and Ānanda. What is the world? Sat, Cit, Ānanda plus form plus name. What is Brahman? Prapañca — Sat, Cit, Ānanda minus form, minus name is called Brahman." There is no difference.
Praveśa Śruti: The Self Enters Completely
And then we enter into another beautiful portion of this fourth section. This is called praveśa śruti — the scripture of entry. Having created, what did Saguṇa Brahma, or Īśvara, do? He entered. How much did he enter? Completely. He is the hair of the hair. He is the nail of the nail. He is the toe of the toe. He is the back of the back. He is the hand of the hand. He is the leg of the leg. He is the eye of the eye. He is the ear of the ear, and so on.
Then what is the difference? Actually there is no difference. It is only because we are ignorant that we think the hand is different, the leg is different, and that they are not Brahman — that they are anātma. But what is the purpose of the Upaniṣad?
Saḥ means that creator. Eṣaḥ means that which is in front of me. He entered — up to the very tips of the fingernails. Like a sword that is kept in a scabbard. "The Self has entered into these bodies up to the tips of the nails, as a razor may be put in its case, or as a fire which sustains the world may be in its source" — which is wood. When there is dry wood, we do not see the fire there. But that kind of seeing — "this is wood, that is fire; this is a hand, this is not a leg" — this knowledge springs from ignorance. So it is avidyā.
The Upaniṣad's Practical Message: Turn Inward
So what does it mean? Why is this Upaniṣad telling us this? The Upaniṣad wants to convey: "All right, sir, you have been told about Brahman, how he created this world. And the goal of life is that you have to claim: 'I am none other than Brahman,' because Brahman alone is manifesting, or projecting, himself as this world. What is this world? Nothing but names and forms. But if you forget the names and forms, the substance is nothing but Brahman. Okay — now we are suffering because of the limitations. And the limitation is caused by ignorance. What is ignorance? Focusing on the forms and names but not on the substance. And this nāmarūpa is called anātma, non-self."
So to help us, the Upaniṣad is telling us now: "Forget about nāmarūpa. Focus upon Brahman. And where is this Brahman to be focused upon? In the sanctum sanctorum. Where is this sanctum sanctorum? It is there within."
In order to teach us that lesson, then this anupraveśa — entering into the creation — means: you look inside yourself. And how do you look inside yourself? Because you have to consciously direct your attention, which is now looking outward, and make it turn inside. And that turning — whether from outside to inside or inside to outside — can take place only by the aid of consciousness. And that consciousness is to be realised as Brahman.
The Witnessing Consciousness: Sākṣī
But we cannot, simply by hearing "your consciousness, and as consciousness you are Brahman," absorb it — it will enter through one ear and go out through the other. That means Brahman is available for contemplation in the mind as the witness consciousness, sākṣī. I dealt on this subject for quite a long time.
We have two eyes — not "eye," but the capital-letter "I." One is the participating I. "I am sitting, I am looking, I am hearing, I am talking, I am eating," and so on. The other is witnessing. Witnessing: "I was in the waking state. I was in the dream state. Then I entered and enjoyed uninterrupted rest for quite some time. And again I entered into the waking state. I was the waker, I was the dreamer, I was the sleeper." Waker is different from dreamer. Dreamer is separate from sleeper. Sleeper is separate from waker. Those states are different. But I — like a person who enters into room A, leaves it, enters into room 2, leaves it, enters into room 3, leaves it, and enters into room 1 again — why room 1 only? Can I not enter room 4? Yes, that is called the Turīya state. There is no room number 5. There is no room for room number 5.
So that fourth is not a fourth state. It is the only state which is manifesting as state number 1 (waking), state number 2 (dreaming), state number 3 (deep sleep). So Śaṅkarācārya says anupraveśa means Brahman is available in the mind as the witness consciousness, sākṣī.
What Is Spiritual Life? Shifting from the Participating I to the Witnessing I
Now, what is spiritual life? To shift the attention, to shift our identity, from the participating I to the witnessing I. There was a beautiful story. Let us remember this one.
Rāmakṛṣṇa — either he heard it and repeated it, or he created it (he had a very creative mind, remember). So there was a Yogī, and there was actually another Yogī who thought that he was superior because he had obtained some special powers. So one day he came and wanted to exhibit his powers in front of the first Yogī. "Do you know my powers?" "No." "What powers do you have?"
Just at that time an elephant was passing by. So the second Yogī looked and said, "May you die." Immediately the elephant fell down dead, and he looked at the first Yogī. There was no discernible expression on the face of the first Yogī. Then the second Yogī looked at the elephant and said, "Now come back alive." Immediately the elephant came back alive. And now the second Yogī was looking for an appreciation: "Oh, what a marvellous power you have!" But the first Yogī was a true Yogī. He said, "What had happened? The elephant was passing. It was dead. It came back alive." And then he said, "What did you gain by that? Did you know the ultimate truth?" Supposedly the second Yogī learnt his lesson.
Two Stories: The Futility of Mere Powers
So there is a story of two brothers. Perhaps you will remember — I am not going to repeat it. So they met after a long time, and the younger one wanted to show what he had achieved after twelve years of hard tapasyā. So he walked on water, whereas the elder brother had to take a boat. "Did you see my power?" The elder brother said, "What power? What? You have wasted twelve years of your time, which I could accomplish by just paying half an anna to the boatman."
So Śaṅkara says that we will have to become one with that sākṣī. What is sākṣī? Just witness. Somebody came and abused me — okay, I am witnessing. Somebody came and honoured me — okay, I am witnessing. What happened to me? Nothing happened. No change has taken place in me. That is a very difficult state, but that is a wonderful state.
A Humorous Incident from the Life of Ramaṇa Maharṣi
Anyway, I just remember now a funny incident that happened in the life of Ramaṇa Maharṣi. So Ramaṇa Maharṣi became very popular, especially after some Westerners recognised him and started coming. How much they understood, God alone knows. But some of them were highly devoted to him, and it is because of them that Ramaṇa Maharṣi's name became well known. They have written books also about him. Some of them were very genuine spiritual aspirants.
So what happened? Some fake sannyāsīs came to know that Ramaṇa Maharṣi did not have a Guru. So one day one of those fake fellows, along with some of his followers — the more fake it is, the more followers will be there — somehow gathered and came to Ramaṇa Maharṣi. He boldly declared in front of Ramaṇa Maharṣi: "Yesterday night, Lord Śiva appeared to me in a dream and commanded me to initiate you, because without a Guru, you cannot really obtain anything."
Now, it was Ramaṇa Maharṣi's habit to just keep quiet. But one of the very intelligent followers of Ramaṇa Maharṣi — by the way, Ramaṇa Maharṣi did not physically initiate anybody as a disciple. He only talked with them. That is all. And some of them took that as what is called initiation — dīkṣā. Now one of them was very intelligent. He said, "Yes, it is true that I also came to know that Śiva appeared in your dream and asked you to come to Ramaṇa Maharṣi and initiate him. But I also had the same dream. One second after he commanded you and you departed, Śiva looked at me and said: 'I think I committed a mistake. These people — when they appear, you must take a big stick and beat them.' So just as you obeyed Śiva's commandment, I am also going to obey." So nearby there was a stick — maybe Ramaṇa Maharṣi's own stick, I don't know. He started — and seeing he was a hefty fellow — that fake guru and his disciples took to their heels.
The Participating I Versus the Witnessing I: Ravana's Birth and Death
So why am I telling this story? If we identify ourselves with the participating I, we go up and down. We become very happy. We become very sad. We become victims of terrible emotional turmoil. But if we identify with the sākṣī — yes, I was born, yes, I was there.
For that also, Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa's beautiful story is there. Śiva and Pārvatī were sitting on Mount Kailāsa. Suddenly they heard a little, loud sound — dhum — like that. And it is said Pārvatī was startled and said, "Lord, what is that sound?" "Rāvaṇa was born." And a few seconds later, another similar sound was heard. "Lord, what is the second sound?" "Rāvaṇa is dead."
Rāvaṇa is born. Rāvaṇa is dead. I am born. I am also going to die. What did I gain in the meanwhile? And that thinking is more useful to us than "I did this, I did that, I could have done that but I did not, I am going to do that." All these are useless thoughts.
Therefore, the jīvātma and paramātma are identical. But you have to turn your attention inward. First identify with the sākṣī jīva. That is called moral life. That is called making the mind absolutely still. That is called citta vṛtti nirodha. And thereafter, one abides in one's own nature. So that is what is called the benefit.
How to Become the Sākṣī: The Purpose of Spiritual Practice
How to become sākṣī? All our spiritual practices are for that purpose. And the Upaniṣad continues: if we do not realise that everything is Brahman, then we remain in deep ignorance. The moment we turn our attention inside, then everything becomes one, because there is no second — we have seen only one, infinite. You cannot distract, you cannot divide, you cannot subtract, you cannot multiply. Anything you do, infinite remains infinite only. That is the śānti pāṭha also we have seen: only infinite remains, even though this universe has come. Come where? Where from does it come? Where does it stand? Infinite cannot change. That which is changeless is called infinite.
Therefore, a commandment is given here. One who knows this will become one with Ātman. Everything is looked upon as a manifestation of one's own self. And this, according to Śaṅkara, is the essence of the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad. And here a beautiful definition is given. What is Ātmā? Sarvaṃ āpnoti iti Ātmā — one definition of Ātmā is that which obtains everything, that which obtains infinity. That is called Ātmā. Therefore, Ātma iti upāsīta. With that, the seventh mantra is over.
The Eighth Mantra: The Source of Ānanda — Why the Self Is Dearest
Now we are going to enter into the eighth mantra. This is also one of the most marvellous analyses of what is called the source of ānanda. And the mantra goes like this: "This Self is dearer than a son, dearer than wealth, dearer than everything else, because it is the innermost. If one holds the Self as the most dearest object to one's own self" — if he has to look at another person who thinks the non-self is most dear, and addressing that second person, if this Ātmajñānī, the knower of Ātman, speaks of him, "What you hold dear is going to be destroyed; you are going to weep because of that" — and it will come to pass, tathā evāsya. It is going to happen like that.
In short, what it means is: anātma — anything non-self, anything finite, anything other than God — it is not going to survive, because only Ātman is there. It is not that there is something other than Ātman. But people think that God is sitting somewhere. Even if they happen to believe in God, He is sitting somewhere — He is the creator, He is all-powerful, He is all-knowing, He is all-compassionate, and He can do whatever He likes. "But I am not He. He is separate." If anybody thinks like that, then that notion itself — that is called ignorance — will be destroyed, maybe after a thousand births, because avidyā is going to be destroyed by vidyā. But vidyā is never ever going to be destroyed. Whatever is destructible is going to be destroyed. Whatever is non-destructible is ever going to remain exactly in the same way.
Meditate Upon the Self Alone as Dear
Having said this, the Upaniṣad says: "One should meditate upon the Self alone as dear." And then it concludes: what is the result? What does a person get? "He who meditates upon the Self alone as dear — what he holds dear will not perish." And what is this person holding dear? Ātmānam — one's own Self. And one's own Self is something that will never perish.
That is to say: slowly develop love for Ātman, and slowly develop — through discrimination, proper discrimination — that everything is temporary. Whatever is temporary is called non-Self. Whatever is limited, whatever is bound by time, space and causation is very temporary, and we are experiencing it every second. My body, which I loved so dearly, is not what it was before I started this sentence. And by the time I utter the next sentence, even the present will be past and the future will become the present. It is continuously moving at mind-boggling speed.
So Śaṅkarācārya quotes this verse very often. What is the essence of this mantra? That Ātman — one's own Self — is dearer than everything else. Here Ātmā means Paramātmā. Because if I say Paramātmā is separate from my Ātmā, then I become jīvātmā. And jīvātmā is a product of ignorance. It is limited by the very word jīvātmā. There is birth, there is growth, there is change, there is death — what is called the six ṣaḍ vikāras: asti, jāyate, vardhate, vipariṇamate, apakṣīyate, and so on.
So this Ātman is dearer than a son, dearer than wealth, and dearer than everything else.
Why Is the Ātman Dearest? The Psychology of Love
The question that comes is: why is the Ātman dearest, and how is the Ātman dearer than everything else? Beautiful light is thrown by Śaṅkarācārya. This is according to non-dual Vedānta. Remember: the word Vedānta is used by Dvaita, Viśiṣṭādvaita, and Advaita. Whenever we say Vedānta without mentioning Dvaita or Viśiṣṭādvaita, we have to take it for granted we are talking about Advaita Vedānta.
There are only two things that every one of us loves equally. What are they? "I love happiness." When I say "I love," I don't love duḥkha. I don't love anything that makes me suffer. I only love happiness. And whatever gives me happiness — that object, that instrument — I love it. Not because of that object itself, but because it becomes an instrument for me to experience happiness.
So what is our goal? Happiness is the goal — unbroken, eternal, infinite happiness. And if I have to experience happiness, let us never forget: first of all, I should not encounter death. There should be no broken existence. So unbroken, infinite existence — called Sat, Asti — must be there. If I want to be happy, I have to be alive. Not only that, I have to be aware that I am alive and that I am very happy. That is why we cannot separate Sat, Cit, and Ānanda.
The Object Is Only a Means; Happiness Alone Is the Goal
So with regard to this, there are certain points. Why do we run after any object? We desire an object. We run after an object — whether it gives happiness or not is a separate issue — because we think it gives us happiness. That means the object is not our goal; it is only the means. What is the objective? Happiness alone is the primary objective.
And why? Because once we squeeze all the juice from the sugarcane, are you going to love that sugarcane from which all rasa is completely squeezed out? No, not at all. And after your stomach is filled, you don't love the food anymore — until you become hungry again. It applies to wife, husband, children, friends, enemies, everything, religion, everything — and even God, we come to that point.
So the question that comes: why do I love happiness? Because that is my very nature. I am happy only when I remain as myself. This is a principle we have to understand very clearly. I am happy when I forget all the limitations. I go beyond time, space, and causation, and at that time I remain as my own self. That remaining as my own self is called happiness.
Now the secondary thing is: I love the means of happiness only because it helps me to unveil the happiness which is really coming from within myself. The moment any object stops giving happiness, my love for it also disappears. And it may even turn into hatred.
The Law of Diminishing Happiness: The Example of Three Cups of Coffee
One of our senior Swamis used to give a beautiful example. Suppose you go to a friend's house late afternoon. First thing he offers is a good cup of coffee or tea. And you are very happy and longing for it, so you enjoy it. And then, seeing your happiness, suppose he offers a second cup of coffee. You may reluctantly accept it and drink it — but you notice it doesn't give the same amount of happiness, because only the first cup will fulfil your desires. And if the friend forces you with a third cup, you are ready practically to beat him up. You get so much annoyed with him.
So there is something called alam — sufficient. "I cannot bear more than this one." That is the nature of every object. Once I squeeze happiness through an object, I no longer need that object. I no longer love that object. I even hate that object. That object becomes a means of hatred for me.
So the desire for happiness is unconditional. But the desire for the instrument or object of happiness is only conditional. What is that condition? So long as it gives me happiness, I love it. The moment it ceases to give happiness, I will not love it anymore.
Ātman Alone Is Happiness; Anātma Is Unhappiness
Then the third point we have to learn: Ātman alone is happiness, and anātma is unhappiness. Why is anātma unhappiness? Because everyone truly loves only the Ātman. Every love we have is only genuine love for the Ātman. But children, possessions, house — all such things belong to the realm of anātma only. We love them only because they give us happiness. The moment they — whether it is husband or wife or children or friends, anybody — stop giving me happiness, that is, start giving me unhappiness, I hate them. I want to run away from them as much as possible.
So it is a conditional love. What is the condition? So long as I get happiness, so long only I love. Any object — take for example your phone. So long as the phone is working properly, then I am happy. The moment it starts delaying even for a second, or going back, or shutting itself off, or restarting — then I go for the next phone. In fact, it is this principle: maybe the latest iteration of the phone gives me more happiness by giving me more freedom, faster — that is what makes us buy new things. But really speaking, it is only an instrument of happiness, if at all. And that which can be the instrument of happiness inevitably can also become the instrument of unhappiness.
Even God Is Subject to This Principle
So it applies to God also. If we are devotees of God and God doesn't fulfil our desires — how long are you going to stand by that God? In fact, we don't love God even when we are meditating, sitting so-called, labelling ourselves as devotees. The moment you spend some time and God becomes an object of boredom — you don't get any happiness from him — then you excuse yourself, get up, and do anything except thinking about God. And if God doesn't save you when you are expecting him to, if he doesn't fulfil your desires, many people become disbelievers, non-believers, because they think, "This God is a useless God, not a useful God."
That means our love for God is a mistaken love. We consider God as the biggest object, the biggest helper for our happiness. But when we understand it is not going to happen, then we discard God. That is how we have not yet developed.
True Love: Loving God Without Condition
Then what is the true love? "O God, I love you because I am happy just by loving you. I don't want anything from you. If I want anything from you, you become an instrument, you become an object — I don't want that one."
Then the question comes — a very important question. The Upaniṣad itself says: a jñānī identifies himself with everybody, loves everybody equally, is unselfish towards everybody, sacrifices everything for everybody. How come? Because here he says the jñānī's love is not as an individual, not as an object — every object is a subject to a jñānī. That is called, in plain language: "I see God in you." Love thy neighbour as thyself. Love God as yourself — beautiful words full of meaning.
So the jñānī's love is what is called selfish love. Why do we call it selfish love? Because he thinks everything is my own self. That selfishness is a different selfishness than thinking, "I am this individual and everything should cater to my own happiness." That is why the jñānī's love is universal love. And there is a beautiful Sanskrit name for that: Sarvātma bhāvanā — "I am everything. I became everything. I am everything." Sarvaṃ khalvidaṃ Brahma.
The Nearest Object Is the Self: The Psychology of Love Concluded
Then another point is also raised — these are all hints we get from the great Śaṅkarācārya. Why do I love anything at all? Because I love whatever is nearer and more intimate to me. And what is the nearest object to me? Only the Ātman. Children are separate — they are born at some time and they go at some time, or I may go. But I am close to them only so long as I think that they are mine.
Why does a mother love her children? Only because she thinks, "This is me — I in the form of my children." She doesn't love the neighbour's children. She doesn't love anybody else's children. If some danger comes, she will rush to save only her children — not because of her love for her children, but because of her knowledge that "I am my children."
And a jñānī extends this to the whole universe, living and non-living. Whereas a mother can only extend it at best only to herself. But it is also said: a monkey carrying its young one, if it has to walk on glowing hot charcoal, will put its child on its body and walk on it. Everything is like that. There is a great lot of truth in it.
So Ātman is the nearest to us. And therefore, that which is nearest means: not separate from me, but me only. That is why we love our Ātman. And the nature of our Ātman is Ānanda. This love is equivalent to Ānanda. When I identify with myself, I feel extremely happy, and vice versa.
Therefore, this is called the psychology of love. The Ātman is dearer than anything. That anything and everything is called anātma.
Beautiful points are still there. We will talk about them in our next class.
Closing Prayer
Om Jānānāṃ Śāradāṃ Devīṃ Rāmakṛṣṇaṃ Jagadgurum
Pada Padme Tayo Śṛtvā Praṇamāmi Muhur Muhuh
May Sri Ramakrishna, Holy Mother, and Swami Vivekananda bless us all with bhakti.