Naren’s keen mind understood the subtle implications of Sri Ramakrishna’s teachings. One day the Master said that the three salient disciplines of Vaishnavism were the love of God’s name, service to the devotees, and compassion for all living beings. But he did not like the word compassion and said to the devotees: ‘How foolish to speak of compassion! Man is an insignificant worm crawling on the earth — and he to show compassion to others! This is absurd. It must not be compassion but service to all. Recognise them as God’s manifestations and serve them.’

‘The Christian is not to become a Hindu or a Buddhist, nor is a Hindu or a Buddhist to become a Christian. But each must assimilate the spirit of the others and yet preserve his individuality and grow according to his law of growth. If the Parliament of Religions has shown anything to the world, it is this: It has proved to the world that holiness, purity, and charity are not the exclusive possessions of any church and that every system has produced men and women of the holiest character. In the face of this evidence, if anybody dreams of the exclusive survival of his religion and the destruction of the others, I pity him from the bottom of my heart and point out to him that upon the banner of every religion will soon be written, despite resistance: ‘Help and not Fight,’ ‘Assimilation and not Destruction,’ ‘Harmony and Peace and not Dissension.’

While synthesising and popularising various strands of Hindu thought, most notably classical Yoga and (Advaita) Vedanta, Vivekananda was also influenced by Western ideas such as Universalism via Unitarian missionaries who collaborated with the Brahmo Samaj. His initial beliefs were shaped by Brahmo concepts, which included belief in a formless God and the deprecation of idolatry,  and a ‘streamlined, rationalised, monotheistic theology strongly coloured by a selective and modernistic reading of the Upanisads and the Vedanta.’ He propagated the idea that ‘the divine, the absolute, exists within all human beings regardless of social status’ and that ‘seeing the divine as the essence of others will promote love and social harmony.’ Via his affiliations with Keshub Chandra Sen’s Nava Vidhan, the Freemasonry lodge, the Sadharan Brahmo Samaj, and Sen’s Band of Hope, Vivekananda became acquainted with Western esotericism.

He was also influenced by Ramakrishna, who gradually brought Narendra to a Vedanta-based worldview that provides the ontological basis for ‘sivajnane jiver seva’, the spiritual practice of serving human beings as actual manifestations of God.

Vivekananda maintained that the essence of Hinduism was best expressed in Adi Shankara’s Advaita Vedanta philosophy. Nevertheless, following Ramakrishna, and in contrast to Advaita Vedanta, Vivekananda believed that the Absolute is both immanent and transcendent. According to Anil Sooklal, Vivekananda’s neo-Vedanta “reconciles Dvaita or dualism and Advaita or non-dualism,” viewing Brahman as ‘one without a second’, ‘yet both qualified, saguna, and without quality, nirguna.’ Vivekananda summarised Vedanta as follows, giving it a modern and Universalistic interpretation, showing the influence of classical yoga:

‘Each soul is potentially divine. The goal is to manifest this Divinity by controlling nature, external and internal. Do this either by work, or worship, or mental discipline, or philosophy—by one, more, or all of these—and be free. This is the whole of religion. Doctrines, dogmas, rituals, books, temples, or forms are but secondary details.’

In the course of a short life of thirty-nine years (1863-1902), of which only ten were devoted to public activities – and those, too, amid acute physical suffering – he left for posterity his four classics: Jnana-Yoga, Bhakti-Yoga, Karma-Yoga, and Raja-Yoga, all of which are outstanding treatises on Hindu philosophy. In addition, he delivered innumerable lectures, wrote inspired letters in his own hand to his many friends and disciples, composed numerous poems, and acted as a spiritual guide to the many seekers who came to him for instruction. He also organised the Ramakrishna Order of Monks, one of modern India’s most outstanding religious organisations. It is devoted to promoting the Hindu spiritual culture not only in the Swami’s native land but also in America and other parts of the world.

Karma Yoga 

The goals of the Ramakrishna Mission are based on the ideals of Karma Yoga, and its primary objective was to serve the poor and distressed population of the country. The Ramakrishna Mission undertook various forms of social service like establishing and running schools, colleges and hospitals, propagation of practical tenets of Vedanta through conferences, seminars and workshops, and initiating relief and rehabilitation work across the country.

THE IDEAL OF KARMA-YOGA 

‘The grandest idea in the religion of the Vedanta is that we may reach the same goal by different paths; these paths I have generalised into four, viz. those of work, love, psychology, and knowledge. But you must, at the same time, remember that these divisions are not very marked and quite exclusive of each other. Each blend into the other. But according to the type which prevails, we name the divisions. It is not that you can find men who have no other faculty than that of work, nor that you can find men who are no more than devoted worshippers only, nor that there are men who have no more than mere knowledge. These divisions are made in accordance with the type or the tendency that may be seen to prevail in a man. We have found that, in the end, all these four paths converge and become one. All religions and all methods of work and worship lead us to one and the same goal.

‘I have already tried to point out that goal. It is freedom as I understand it. Everything we perceive around us is struggling towards freedom, from the atom to the man, from the insentient, lifeless particle of matter to the highest existence on earth, the human soul. The whole universe is, in fact, the result of this struggle for freedom. In all combinations, every particle is trying to go its own way, to fly from the other particles; but the others are holding it in check. Our earth is trying to fly away from the sun and the moon from the earth. Everything tends towards infinite dispersion. All that we see in the universe has for its basis this one struggle towards freedom; it is under the impulse of this tendency that the saint prays and the robber robs. When the line of action taken is not a proper one, we call it evil; and when the manifestation of it is proper and high, we call it good. But the impulse is the same, the struggle towards freedom. The saint is oppressed by the knowledge of his condition of bondage, and he wants to get rid of it, so he worships God. The thief is oppressed by the idea that he does not possess certain things, and he tries to get rid of that want, to obtain freedom from it, so he steals. Freedom is the one goal of all nature, sentient or insentient; consciously or unconsciously, everything is struggling towards that goal. The freedom the saint seeks is very different from that the robber seeks; the freedom loved by the saint leads him to the enjoyment of infinite, unspeakable bliss, while that which the robber has set his heart on only forges other bonds for his soul.

‘There is to be found in every religion the manifestation of this struggle towards freedom. It is the groundwork of all morality, of unselfishness, which means getting rid of the idea that men are the same as their little body. When we see a man doing good work, and helping others, it means that he cannot be confined within the limited circle of ‘me and mine.’ There is no limit to this getting out of selfishness. All the great systems of ethics preach absolute unselfishness as the goal. Supposing a man’s absolute unselfishness can be reached, what becomes of him? He is no more the little Mr. So-and-so; he has acquired infinite expansion. The little personality he had before is now lost to him forever; he has become infinite, and the attainment of this infinite expansion is indeed the goal of all religions and all moral and philosophical teachings. The personalist, when he hears this idea philosophically put, gets frightened. At the same time, if he preaches morality, he, after all, teaches the very same idea himself. He sets no limit to the unselfishness of man. Suppose a man becomes perfectly unselfish under the personalistic system; how are we to distinguish him from the perfected ones in other systems? He has become one with the universe, and to become that is the goal of all; only the poor personalist has not the courage to follow his reasoning to its correct conclusion. Karma-Yoga is the attaining through unselfish work of that freedom which is the goal of all human nature. Every selfish action, therefore, retards our reaching the goal, and every unselfish action takes us towards the goal; that is why the only definition that can be given of morality is this: That which is selfish is immoral, and that which is unselfish is moral.

‘But, if you come to details, the matter will not be seen to be quite so simple. For instance, the environment often makes the details different, as I have already mentioned. The same action under one set of circumstances may be unselfish, and under another set, quite selfish. So we can give only a general definition and leave the details to be worked out by considering the differences in time, place, and circumstances. In one country, one kind of conduct is considered moral; in another, the same is immoral because the circumstances differ. The goal of all nature is freedom, and freedom is attained only by perfect unselfishness; every unselfish thought, word, or deed takes us toward the goal and, as such, is called moral. That definition, you will find, holds good in every religion and every system of ethics. In some systems of thought, morality is derived from a Superior Being — God. If you ask why a man ought to do this and not that, their answer is: ‘Because such is the command of God.’ But whatever the source from which it is derived, their code of ethics also has the same central idea — not to think of self but to give up self. And yet some persons, in spite of this high ethical idea, are frightened at the thought of having to give up their little personalities. We may ask the man who clings to the idea of little personalities to consider the case of a person who has become perfectly unselfish, who has no thought for himself, who does no deed for himself, who speaks no word for himself, and then say where his ‘himself’ is. That ‘himself’ is known to him only so long as he thinks, acts, or speaks for himself. If he is only conscious of others, of the universe, and of the all, where is his ‘himself’? It is gone forever.

‘Therefore, Karma-Yoga is a system of ethics and religion intended to attain freedom through unselfishness and good works. The Karma-Yogi need not believe in any doctrine whatever. He may not believe even in God, may not ask what his soul is, nor think of any metaphysical speculation. He has his own particular aim of realising selflessness, and he has to work it out himself. Every moment of his life must be realised because he has to solve by mere work, without the help of doctrine or theory, the same problem to which the Jnani applies his reason and inspiration, and the Bhakta his love.

‘We have now seen what work is. It is a part of nature’s foundation and always goes on. Those who believe in God understand this better because they know that God is not such an incapable being as will need our help. Although this universe will go on always, our goal is freedom, our goal is unselfishness, and according to Karma-Yoga, that goal is to be reached through work. All ideas of making the world perfectly happy may be good as motive powers for fanatics, but we must know that fanaticism brings forth as much evil as good. The Karma-Yogi asks why you require any motive to work other than the inborn love of freedom. Be beyond the common worldly motives. ;To work, you have the right, but not to the fruits thereof.’ Man can train himself to know and to practice that, says the Karma-Yogi. When the idea of doing good becomes a part of his very being, he will not seek any motive outside. Let us do good because it is good to do good; he who does good work even to get to heaven binds himself down, says the Karma-Yogi. Any work done, even with the least selfish motive, forges one more chain for our feet instead of making us free.

‘So the only way is to give up all the fruits of work, to be unattached to them. Know that this world is not we, nor are we this world; that we are not the body; that we in reality do not work. We are the Self, eternally at rest and at peace. Why should anything bind us? It is very good to say that we should be perfectly non-attached, but what is the way to do it? Instead of forging a new chain, every good work we do without ulterior motive will break one of the links in the existing chains. Every good thought that we send to the world without thinking of any return, will be stored up there and break one link in the chain, and make us purer and purer, until we become the purest of mortals. Yet, all this may seem rather quixotic and too philosophical, more theoretical than practical. I have read many arguments against the Bhagavad-Gita, and many have said that you cannot work without motives. They have never seen charitable work except under the influence of fanaticism, and, therefore, they speak in that way.

‘In conclusion, let me tell you in a few words about one man who carried this teaching of Karma-Yoga into practice. That man is Buddha. He is the one man who ever carried this into perfect practice. All the world prophets, except Buddha, had external motives to move them to unselfish action. The prophets of the world, with this single exception, may be divided into two sets, one set holding that they are incarnations of God come down on earth, and the other holding that they are only messengers from God; and both draw their impetus for work from outside, expect reward from outside, however highly spiritual may be the language they use. But Buddha is the only prophet who said, ‘I do not care to know your various theories about God. What is the use of discussing all the subtle doctrines about the soul? Do good and be good. And this will take you to freedom and to whatever truth there is.’ In the conduct of his life, he was absolutely without personal motives; and what man worked more than he? Show me in history one character who has soared so high above all. The whole human race has produced but one such character, such high philosophy, such wide sympathy. This great philosopher, preaching the highest philosophy, had the deepest sympathy for the lowest animals and never made any claims for himself. He is the ideal Karma-Yogi, acting entirely without motive, and the history of humanity shows him to have been the greatest man ever born; beyond compare the greatest combination of heart and brain that ever existed, the greatest soul-power that has ever been manifested. He is the first great reformer the world has seen. He was the first who dared to say, ‘Believe not because some old manuscripts are produced, believe not because it is your national belief, because you have been made to believe it from your childhood; but reason it all out, and after you have analysed it, then, if you find that it will do good to one and all, believe it, live up to it, and help others to live up to it.’ He works best without any motive, neither for money, nor for fame, nor anything else; when a man can do that, he will be a Buddha, and out of him will come the power to work in such a manner as will transform the world. This man represents the very highest ideal of Karma-Yoga.”

DEFINITION OF BHAKTI

‘Bhakti-Yoga is a real, genuine search after the Lord, a search beginning, continuing, and ending in love. One single moment of the madness of extreme love for God brings us eternal freedom. ‘Bhakti,’ says Narada in his explanation of the Bhakti-aphorisms, ‘is an intense love for God. When a man gets it, he loves all and hates none; he becomes satisfied forever. This love cannot be reduced to any earthly benefit because so long as worldly desires last, that kind of love does not come. Bhakti is greater than Karma, greater than Yoga because these are intended for an object in view, while Bhakti is its own fruition, its own means and its own end.’

‘Bhakti has been the one constant theme of our sages. Apart from the notable writers on Bhakti, such as Shandilya or Narada, the great commentators on the Vyasa-Sutras, evidently, advocates of knowledge (Jnana), have also something very suggestive to say about love. Even when the commentator is anxious to explain many, if not all, of the texts to make them import a sort of dry knowledge, the Sutras, in the chapter on worship especially, do not lend themselves to be easily manipulated in that fashion.

‘There is not that much difference between knowledge (Jnana) and love (Bhakti), as people sometimes imagine. As we go on, we shall see that they converge and meet at the same point. So also is it with Raja-Yoga, which, when pursued as a means to attain liberation, and not (as unfortunately it frequently becomes in the hands of charlatans and mystery-mongers) as an instrument to hoodwink the unwary, leads us also to the same goal.

‘The one great advantage of Bhakti is that it is the easiest and the most natural way to reach the great divine end in view; its great disadvantage is that in its lower forms, it often degenerates into hideous fanaticism. The fanatical crew in Hinduism, Islam, or Christianity have always been almost exclusively recruited from these worshippers on the lower planes of Bhakti. That singleness of attachment (Nishthâ) to a loved object, without which no genuine love can grow, is often the cause of the denunciation of everything else. All the weak and undeveloped minds in every religion or country have only one way of loving their own ideal, i.e. by hating every other ideal. Herein is the explanation of why the same man who is so lovingly attached to his ideal of God, so devoted to his ideal of religion, becomes a howling fanatic as soon as he sees or hears anything of any other ideal. This kind of love is somewhat like the canine instinct of guarding the master’s property against intrusion; only the dog’s instinct is better than the reason of man, for the dog never mistakes its master for an enemy in whatever dress he may come before it. Again, the fanatic loses all power of judgment. Personal considerations are, in his case, of such absorbing interest that it is no question at all what a man says — whether it is right or wrong, but the one thing he is always particularly careful to know is who says it. The same man who is kind, good, honest, and loving to people of his own opinion will not hesitate to do the vilest deeds when they are directed against persons beyond the pale of his own religious brotherhood.

‘But this danger exists only in that Bhakti stage, called the preparatory (Gauni). When Bhakti has become ripe and has passed into that form which is called the supreme (Para), no more is there any fear of these hideous manifestations of fanaticism; that soul which is overpowered by this higher form of Bhakti is too near the God of Love to become an instrument for the diffusion of hatred.

‘It is not given to all of us to be harmonious in building our characters in this life: yet we know that that character is of the noblest type in which all these three — knowledge and love and Yoga — are harmoniously fused. Three things are necessary for a bird to fly — the two wings and the tail as a rudder for steering. Jnana (Knowledge) is the one wing, Bhakti (Love) is the other, and Yoga is the tail that keeps up the balance. For those who cannot pursue all these three forms of worship together in harmony and take up, therefore, Bhakti alone as their way, it is necessary always to remember that forms and ceremonials, though absolutely necessary for the progressive soul, have no other value than taking us on to that state in which we feel the most intense love for God.

‘There is a little difference in opinion between the teachers of knowledge and those of love, though both admit the power of Bhakti. The Jnanis hold Bhakti to be an instrument of liberation; Bhaktas look upon it both as the instrument and the thing to be attained. To my mind, this is a distinction without much difference. Bhakti, when used as an instrument, really means a lower form of worship, and the higher form becomes inseparable from the lower form of realisation at a later stage. Each seems to lay great stress upon his own peculiar method of worship, forgetting that with perfect love, true knowledge is bound to come even unsought, and true love is inseparable from perfect knowledge.

‘Meditation, again, is a constant remembrance of the thing meditated upon, flowing like an unbroken stream of oil poured out from one vessel to another. All bandages break when this kind of remembering is attained in relation to God. Thus it is spoken of in the scriptures regarding constant remembering as a means to liberation. This remembering is of the same nature as seeing because it is of the same meaning as in the passage, ‘When He who is far and near is seen, the bonds of the heart are broken, all doubts vanish, and all effects of work disappear.’ He who is near can be seen, but he who is far can only be remembered. Nevertheless, the scripture reminds us that we have to see Him who is near as well as far, indicating to us that the above kind of remembering is as good as seeing. This remembrance, when exalted, assumes the same form as seeing. . . . 

Worship is constant remembering, as seen from the essential scriptures texts. Knowing, which is the same as repeated worship, has been described as constant remembering. . . . Thus, the memory, which has attained the height of what is as good as direct perception, is spoken of in the Shruti as a means of liberation. ‘This Atman is not to be reached through various sciences, nor by intellect, nor by much study of the Vedas. ‘Whomsoever this Atman desires, by him is the Atman attained, unto him this Atman discovers Himself.’ Here, after saying that mere hearing, thinking and meditating are not the means of attaining this Atman, it is said, ‘Whom this Atman desires, by him the Atman is attained.’ By whomsoever this Atman is extremely beloved, he becomes the most beloved of the Atman. So that this beloved may attain the Atman, the Lord Himself helps. For it has been said by the Lord: ‘Those who are constantly attached to Me and worship Me with love — I give that direction to their will by which they come to Me.’ Therefore it is said that to whomsoever this remembering, which is of the same form as direct perception, is very dear; because it is dear to the Object of such memory perception, the Supreme Atman desires him. By him, the Supreme Atman is attained. ‘This constant remembrance is denoted by the word Bhakti,’ says Bhagavan Ramanuja in his commentary on the Sutra Athato Brahma-jijnasa (Hence follows a dissertation on Brahman.).

‘In commenting on the Sutra of Patanjali, Ishvara pranidhanadva, i.e. ‘Or by the worship of the Supreme Lord’ — Bhoja says, ‘Pranidhana is that sort of Bhakti in which, without seeking results, such as sense-enjoyments etc., all works are dedicated to that Teacher of teachers.’ Bhagavan Vyasa also, when commenting on the same, defines Pranidhana as ‘the form of Bhakti by which the mercy of the Supreme Lord comes to the Yogi, and blesses him by granting him his desires.’ According to Shandilya, ‘Bhakti is intense love to God.’ The best definition is, however, that given by the king of Bhaktas, Prahlada: ‘That deathless love which the ignorant have for the fleeting objects of the senses — as I keep meditating on Thee — may not that love slip away from my heart!’

Love! For whom? For the Supreme Lord, Ishvara. Love for any other being, however great, cannot be Bhakti; for, as Ramanuja says in his Shri Bhashya, quoting an ancient Acharya, i.e. a great teacher: ‘From Brahma to a clump of grass, all things that live in the world are slaves of birth and death caused by Karma; therefore they cannot be helpful as objects of meditation, because they are all in ignorance and subject to change.’ 

In commenting on the word Anurakti used by Shandilya, the commentator Svapneshvara says that it means Anu, after, and Rakti, attachment, i.e. the attachment which comes after the knowledge of the nature and glory of God; else, a blind attachment to anyone, e.g. to wife or children, would be Bhakti. We clearly see, therefore, that Bhakti is a series or succession of mental efforts at religious realisation, beginning with ordinary worship and ending in a supreme intensity of love for Ishvara, the Supreme Ruler.’

On Jnana Yoga

All souls are playing, some consciously, some unconsciously. Religion is learning to play consciously. The same law which holds good in our worldly life also holds good in our religious life and the life of the cosmos. It is one; it is universal. It is not that religion is guided by one law and the world by another. The flesh and the devil are but degrees of difference from God Himself.

Theologians, philosophers, and scientists in the West are ransacking everything to get proof that they live afterwards! What a storm in a teacup! There are much higher things to think of. What silly superstition is this, that you ever die! It requires no priests, spirits, or ghosts to tell us that we shall not die. It is the most self-evident of all truths. No man can imagine his own annihilation. The idea of immortality is inherent in man.

Wherever there is life, with it, there is death. Life is the shadow of death, and death is the shadow of life. The line of demarcation is too fine to determine, too difficult to grasp, and most difficult to hold on to. I do not believe in eternal progress, that we are growing ever and ever in a straight line. It is too nonsensical to believe. There is no motion in a straight line. A straight line infinitely projected becomes a circle. The force sent out will complete the circle and return to its starting place. There is no progress in a straight line. Every soul moves in a circle, as it were, and will have to complete it; no soul can stay down; there will come a time when it will have to go upwards. It may start straight down, but it has to take the upward curve to complete the circuit. We are all projected from a common centre, which is God, and will come back after completing the circuit to the centre from which we started. Each soul is a circle. The centre is where the body is, and the activity is manifested there. You are omnipresent, though you have the consciousness of being concentrated in only one point. That point has taken up particles of matter and formed them into a machine to express itself. That through which it expresses itself is called the body. You are everywhere. When one body or machine fails you, the centre moves on and takes up other particles of matter, finer or grosser, and works through them. Here is man. And what is God? God is a circle with circumference nowhere and centre everywhere. Every point in that circle is living, conscious, active, and equally working. With our limited souls, only one point is conscious, and that point moves forward and backward. The soul is a circle whose circumference is nowhere (limitless) but whose centre is in some body. Death is but a change of centre. God is a circle whose circumference is nowhere, and whose centre is everywhere. When we can get out of the limited centre of the body, we shall realise God, our true Self.

A tremendous stream is flowing towards the ocean, carrying little bits of paper and straw hither and thither on it. They may struggle to go back, but they must flow down to the ocean in the long run. So you and I and all nature are like these little straws carried in mad currents toward that Ocean of Life, Perfection, and God. We may struggle to go back or float against the current and play all sorts of pranks, but in the long run, we must go and join this great ocean of Life and Bliss.

Jnana (knowledge) is ‘creedlessness,’ but that does not mean it despises creeds. It only means that a stage above and beyond creeds has been gained. The Jnani (true philosopher) strives to destroy nothing but to help all. All rivers roll their waters into the sea and become one. So all creeds should lead to Jnana and become one. Jnana teaches that the world should be renounced but not, on that account, abandoned. To live in the world and not to be of it is the true test of renunciation. I cannot see how it can be otherwise than that all knowledge is stored up in us from the beginning. If you and I are little waves on the ocean, then that ocean is the background.

There is no difference between matter, mind, and Spirit. They are only different phases of experiencing the One. This very world is seen by the five senses as matter, by the very wicked as hell, by the good as heaven, and by the perfect as God. We cannot bring it to sense demonstration that Brahman is the only real thing, but we can point out that this is the only conclusion that one can come to. For instance, there must be this oneness in everything, even in common things. There is human generalisation, for example. We say that all the variety is created by name and form; yet it is nowhere to grasp and separate it. We can never see names or forms, or causes standing by themselves. So this phenomenon is Maya — something which depends on the noumenon and apart from it has no existence. Take a wave in the ocean. That wave exists so long as that quantity of water remains in wave form, but as soon as it goes down and becomes the ocean, the wave ceases to exist. But the whole mass of water does not depend so much on its form. The ocean remains, while the waveform becomes absolute zero.

The real is one. It is the mind which makes it appear as many. When we perceive diversity, the unity has gone; as soon as we perceive unity, the diversity has vanished. Just as in everyday life, when you perceive unity, you do not perceive diversity. In the beginning, you start with unity. It is a curious fact that a Chinaman will not know the difference in appearance between one American and another, and you will not know the difference between different Chinamen. It can be shown that it is the mind which makes things knowable. It is only things which have certain peculiarities that bring themselves within the range of the known and knowable. That which has no qualities is unknowable. For instance, there is some external world, X, unknown and unknowable. When I look at it, it is X plus mind. When I want to know the world, my mind contributes three-quarters of it. The internal world is Y plus mind, and the external world X plus mind. All differentiation in either the external or internal world is created by the mind, and that which exists is unknown and unknowable. It is beyond the range of knowledge, and that which is beyond the range of knowledge can have no differentiation. Therefore this X outside is the same as the Y inside, and therefore the real is one.

God does not reason. Why should you reason if you know? It is a sign of weakness that we have to go on crawling like worms to get a few facts, and then the whole thing tumbles down again. The Spirit is reflected in the mind and in everything. It is the light of the Spirit that makes the mind sentient. Everything is an expression of the Spirit; the minds are so many mirrors. What you call love, fear, hatred, virtue, and vice are all reflections of the Spirit. When the reflector is base, the reflection is bad. The real Existence is without manifestation. We cannot conceive It because we should have to conceive through the mind, which is itself a manifestation. Its glory is that It is inconceivable. We must remember that in life, the lowest and highest vibrations of light we do not see, but they are the opposite poles of existence. There are certain things which we do not know now but which we can know. It is due to our ignorance that we do not know them. There are certain things which we can never know because they are much higher than the highest vibrations of knowledge. 

We are the Eternal all the time, although we cannot know it. Knowledge will be impossible there. The very fact of the limitations of the conception is the basis for its existence. For instance, there is nothing so certain in me as my Self; and yet I can only conceive of it as a body and mind, as happy or unhappy, as a man or a woman. At the same time, I try to conceive of it as it really is and find that there is no other way of doing it but by dragging it down, yet I am sure of that reality. ‘No one, O beloved, loves the husband for the husband’s sake, but because the Self is there. It is in and through the Self that she loves the husband. No one, O beloved, loves the wife for the wife’s sake, but in and through the Self.’ And that Reality is the only thing we know because in and through It, we know everything else, yet we cannot conceive of It. How can we know the Knower? If we knew It, It would not be the knower but the known; It would be objectified.

The man of highest realisation exclaims, ‘I am the King of kings; there is no king higher than I; I am the God of gods; there is no God higher than I! I alone exist, One without a second.’ This monistic idea of the Vedanta seems to many, of course, very terrible, but that is on account of superstition.

We are the Self, eternally at rest and at peace. We must not weep; there is no weeping for the Soul. We, in our imagination, think that God is weeping on His throne out of sympathy. Such a God would not be worth attaining. Why should God weep at all? To weep is a sign of weakness, of bondage.

Seek the Highest, always the Highest, for in the Highest is eternal bliss. If I am to hunt, I will hunt the lion. If I am to rob, I will rob the treasury of the king. Seek the Highest.

Oh, One that cannot be confined or described! One that can be perceived in our heart of hearts! One beyond all compare, beyond limit, unchangeable like the blue sky! Oh, learn the All, holy one I Seek for nothing else!

Where changes of nature cannot reach, thought beyond all thought, Unchangeable, Immovable; whom all books declare, all sages worship; Oh, holy one, seek for nothing else!

Beyond compare, Infinite Oneness! No comparison is possible. Water above, water below, water on the right, water on the left; no wave on that water, no ripple, all silence, all eternal bliss. Such will come to thy heart. Seek for nothing else!

Why weepest thou, brother? There is neither death nor disease for thee. Why weepest thou, brother? There is neither misery nor misfortune for thee. Why weepest thou, brother? Neither change nor death was predicated for thee. Thou art Existence Absolute.

I know what God is — I cannot speak Him to you. I know not what God is — how can I speak Him to you? But seest thou not, my brother, that thou art He, thou art He? Why go seeking God here and there? Seek not, and that is God. Be your own Self.

Thou art Our Father, our Mother, our dear Friend. Thou bearest the burden of the world. Help us to bear the burden of our lives. Thou art our Friend, our Lover, our Husband, Thou art ourselves!

Raja Yoga – An Introduction

The science of Raja-Yoga, in the first place, proposes to give us such a means of observing the internal states. The instrument is the mind itself. The power of attention, when properly guided, and directed towards the internal world, will analyse the mind and illumine facts for us. The powers of the mind are like rays of light dissipated; when they are concentrated, they illumine. This is our only means of knowledge. Everyone is using it, both in the external and the internal world; but for the psychologist, the same minute observation has to be directed to the internal world, which the scientific man directs to the external; and this requires a great deal of practice. From childhood on, we have been taught only to pay attention to things external but never to things internal; hence most of us have nearly lost the faculty of observing the internal mechanism. To turn the mind as it were, inside, stop it from going outside, and then to concentrate all its powers, and throw them upon the mind itself, in order that it may know its own nature, analyse itself, is very hard work. Yet that is the only way to do anything, which will be a scientific approach to the subject.

What is the use of such knowledge? In the first place, knowledge itself is the highest reward of knowledge, and secondly, there is also utility in it. It will take away all our misery. When by analysing his own mind, a man comes face to face, as it were, with something which is never destroyed, something which is, by its own nature, eternally pure and perfect, he will no more be miserable, no more unhappy. All misery comes from fear, from unsatisfied desire. Man will find that he never dies, and then he will have no more fear of death. When he knows that he is perfect, he will have no more vain desires, and both these causes being absent, there will be no more misery — there will be perfect bliss, even while in this body.

There is only one method by which to attain this knowledge, which is called concentration. The chemist in his laboratory concentrates all the energies of his mind into one focus and throws them upon the materials he is analysing, and so finds out their secrets. So the astronomer concentrates all the energies of his mind and projects them through his telescope upon the skies, the stars, the sun, and the moon giving up their secrets to him. The more I can concentrate my thoughts on the matter I am talking to you, the more light I can throw upon you. You are listening to me; the more you concentrate your thoughts, the more clearly you will grasp what I have to say.

How has all the knowledge in the world been gained but by the concentration of the powers of the mind? The world is ready to give up its secrets if we only know how to knock, how to give it the necessary blow. The strength and force of the blow come through concentration. There is no limit to the power of the human mind. The more concentrated it is, the more power is brought to bear on one point; that is the secret.

It is easy to concentrate the mind on external things; the mind naturally goes outwards, but not so in the case of religion, psychology, or metaphysics, where the subject and the object are one. The object is internal, the mind itself is the object, and it is necessary to study the mind itself — the mind studying the mind. We know that there is the power of the mind called reflection. I am talking to you. At the same time, I am standing aside, as it were, a second person, and knowing and hearing what I am talking about. You work and think simultaneously while a portion of your mind stands by and sees what you are thinking. The powers of the mind should be concentrated and turned back upon itself. As the darkest places reveal their secrets before the sun’s penetrating rays, so will this concentrated mind penetrate its innermost secrets. Thus we will come to the basis of belief, the real genuine religion.

We will perceive for ourselves whether we have souls, whether life is of five minutes or of eternity, and whether there is a God in the universe or more. It will all be revealed to us. This is what Raja-Yoga teaches. The goal of all its teaching is how to concentrate the minds, then how to discover the innermost recesses of our minds, then how to generalise their contents and form our conclusions from them. It, therefore, never asks the question of what our religion is, whether we are Deists or Atheists, whether Christians, Jews, or Buddhists. We are human beings; that is sufficient. Every human being has the right and the power to seek religion. Every human has the right to ask the reason and to have his question answered inwardly if he only takes the trouble.

According to the Raja-Yogi, the external world is but the gross form of the internal or subtle. The finer is always the cause, the grosser the effect. So the external world is the effect, the internal the cause. In the same way, external forces are simply the grosser parts, of which the internal forces are the finer. The man who has discovered and learned how to manipulate the internal forces will get the whole of nature under his control. The Yogi proposes to himself no less a task than to master the whole universe, to control the whole of nature. He wants to arrive at the point where what we call ‘nature’s laws’ will have no influence over him, where he will be able to get beyond them all. He will be the Master of the whole of nature, internal and external. The progress and civilisation of the human race simply mean controlling this nature.

The end and aim of all science is to find the unity, the One out of which the manifold is being manufactured, that One existing as many. Raja-Yoga proposes to start from the internal world, to study internal nature, and through that, control the whole — both internal and external. It is a very old attempt. India has been its special stronghold, but it was also attempted by other nations. In Western countries, it was regarded as mysticism, and people who wanted to practice it were either burned or killed as witches and sorcerers. In India, for various reasons, it fell into the hands of persons who destroyed ninety percent of the knowledge and tried to make a great secret of the remainder. In modern times many so-called teachers have arisen in the West worse than those of India, because the latter knew something, while these modern exponents know nothing.

The Yogi proposes to attain that fine state of perception in which he can perceive all the mental states. There must be a clear mental perception of all of them. One can perceive how the sensation is travelling, how the mind is receiving it, how it is going to the determinative faculty, and how this gives it to Purusha. Each science requires certain preparations and its method, which must be followed before it can be understood.

Certain regulations as to food are necessary; we must use that food which brings us the purest mind. If you go into a menagerie, you will find this demonstrated at once. You see the elephants, huge animals, but calm and gentle, and if you go towards the cages of the lions and tigers, you find them restless, showing how much difference has been made by food. All the forces that are working in this body have been produced out of food; we see that every day. If you begin to fast, first, your body will get weak, and the physical forces will suffer; then, after a few days, the mental forces will suffer also. First, memory will fail. Then comes the point when you are not able to think, much less pursue any course of reasoning. Therefore, we have to take care of what sort of food we eat at the beginning, and when we have enough strength when our practice is well advanced, we need not be so careful in this respect. While the plant is growing, it must be hedged around, lest it is injured, but when it becomes a tree, the hedges are removed. It is strong enough to withstand all assaults.

A Yogi must avoid the two extremes of luxury and austerity. He must not fast nor torture his flesh. He who does so, says the Gita, cannot be a Yogi: He who fasts, he who keeps awake, he who sleeps much, he who works too much, he who does no work, none of these can be a Yogi (Gita, VI, 16).