What is Knowledge

by Swami Krishnananda

It is to be again emphasised that when we speak of the senses, we do not entirely mean the physical fleshy organs like the eyeballs, the eardrum, the tongue or the nostrils. The eardrum is not the ear, the eyeballs are not the eyes, and so is the case with the other sense organs. A sense, in the light of the system of the practice of yoga, is not the fleshy part which acts as a medium for the expression of this activity called the senses. What are the senses? From the point of view of a purely religious or spiritual outlook, or an outlook of yoga, the ‘sense’ that we are referring to is an impulsion of consciousness in a particular direction, and it is not the eyeballs or any such thing. These eyes, these ears, these other sense organs are the locations in the physical body for the expression of the internal impulses. The electric energy that is behind the working of an electrical gadget is different from the physical part of it, which is a material substance. The impulsion is a force, and it cannot be seen, heard of, touched etc. It is a vehemence of our consciousness; it is a flood-like push that is exerted by our own selves in a particular given direction. We urge ourselves in a particular way, and force ourselves to act in a particular manner. Basically, if we are consciousness proper, what we call sensory activity is also an activity of consciousness. The channelisation of our own true being through the avenues called the physical sense organs – this is actually sense activity.

Hence, the withdrawal of the senses is not to be equated merely with plugging the physical ears, closing the eyelids or shutting the mouth in a physical sense; because, while as a process of quarantining the impulses of consciousness we may, for some time, also be required to adopt these measures of physically abstaining from contact with objects, we know very well that quarantining is not the whole of the treatment that is called for. Treatment is a positive work that is required, while segregation is an external tentative measure that is adopted. It may be necessary for us to place ourselves – even physically and geographically – under circumstances in which the senses are not tempted. This we cannot rule out as a necessity. But this is not the whole of yoga because, as we know very well, the impulsion of consciousness we are referring to is principally what is called desire.

Desire, longing, passion, is the urge of consciousness for a particular contact which it expects from that which it regards as its object for the time being. Now, this impulsion of consciousness is certainly expected to utilise the sense organs for its expression, as a copper wire is required for passing an electric current, otherwise it cannot pass. The inner impulsion of consciousness requires the cooperation of the physical sense organs, no doubt; but electricity is different from the copper wire, and it can be vehement even with the absence of this means of expression.

Thus, while pratyahara should imply a sort of austere living even socially and physically, it is not enough, because the process of pratyahara, or restraint of the senses, is not shutting the mouth of the conscious impulse. “Don’t speak. Keep quiet.” If we say this to the conscious impulse, it may be frightened for the time being because of the orders that we have issued, but a frightened person is really not a subordinate person, because we cannot impose fear upon anyone and then get work done for all time. The result of such an order or a mandate that we issue by the power of our will may appear to be successful for a few days, or even for a few months or maybe even for a few years, as we can put a bund across a flowing river and prevent its flow further on, but we know very well what will happen to the restrained waters if they are held like that for a long time. They may break the bund, and go anywhere they like.

Therefore, the control of the senses also is a part of the educational process. It is a part of the psychology of real education. A spiritual seeker has to be a good psychologist in the sense that he has to understand the reason behind the way in which he conducts himself, the manner in which his mind operates, and the reason why anything at all happens to him. Why do we desire anything? It is not enough if we prevent the expression of this desire; it is also necessary to know why a desire arises at all. And we know very well why desires of any kind express themselves: it is the persistent asking of consciousness to feel assured that it is always right in its imagination that its object is outside it. It is telling us again and again that we have to certify, corroborate, and agree with its opinion that the world is outside it. If we say that the world is not outside, it is not going to listen to us. This is the reason why the desires cannot be easily controlled.

Now you know why the restraint of the senses is an education, and not a policeman’s action. It is an internal developing process by which we very tenaciously, but with immense patience, educate. Educating is the process of the automatic opening of a bud into a blossomed flower, and not breaking the bud in order that it may look like a flower. Just as a broken bud is not a flower, in the same way, a suppressed desire is not pratyahara. The wildness with which desires sometimes act in us would indicate how far we are removed from a real conviction of the ultimate nature of creation or the final order which the universe itself is. Our knowledge is utterly poor in regard to anything, for the matter of that. The poverty of our understanding and knowledge of anything, really, can be known from the extent of our desires. The strength of our desires tells us how poor our understanding is of anything.

What does yoga tell us? It has many things to tell us. The process of pratyahara is, again, a graduated endeavour on our part. It may take years for us to succeed, as is the case with anything that is educative. In the beginning, as the Yoga Vasishtha sometimes tells us, we have to accept what the senses tell us, and should not oppose them abruptly. There are people who rebut anything that is said to them: “I don’t agree.” This is not a healthy way of refuting an argument, because logic is not a sudden rebuttal; it is also a gradual educational process.

When the child cries for something undesirable, we say, “Yes, you will get it.” This is a satisfaction to the crying child, though we are not going to give it. The child may be crying for a sharp knife, and we know that we are not going to give it. But if we say “I am not going to give it to you”, it will cry still more. So what do we say? “You are going to get something better than this from the shop. Tomorrow I’ll get it for you, so keep quiet today.” Then, today the mind is keeping quiet under the impression that tomorrow the knife will come. It will not come, as we know very well, but meanwhile we adopt such measures which will prevent the child from asking for such a thing at all, by somehow or other channelising its interest in something very positive, very interesting, very attractive, which is pleasing to it. It is not a denial of what it asks for, but a substitute that we are giving in place of what it is asking for. Suppression of a desire is dangerous, and sometimes we are told that even substitution is not an alternative. Though substitution is not an alternative, it is one step beyond mere repression of the will or the force of desire by a mandate of the will power.

There are supposed to be three ways by which we try to deal with our longings or our desires. We fulfil them; whatever is asked for is given. This is the indulgent attitude. But often, for manifold reasons, we suppress the desire because we are in an atmosphere where it cannot be manifest with impunity. It is also possible to give it a substitute, which is another method that we can adopt.

A good psychologist will tell us that even substitution is not a real success in the restraint of the impulses. Sublimation is supposed to be the only way. But what is sublimation? Literally, it means melting down. We melt down the desire until it becomes liquid, as it were, and it is no more the solid, hard thing that was confronting us. But what is this melting down of the desire? How can we melt it? “I want this,” says the mind, the consciousness feels, and the senses argue – and it is said that sublimation is the way. What is sublimation, which is spoken of so much in psychology, psychoanalysis, and even spirituality?

This is precisely what yoga attempts. Sublimation is the melting down of the desire into the cause from where it arises. The effect is not merely driven back to the cause, but melted down to the cause, so that it is no more there except as the cause. It is not there as something outside the cause or the source from where it arises. It is no longer there. The ice has become water, and the ice is not there at all. It is not that we push a lump of ice into the water and allow it to maintain an individuality of its own in spite of its being immersed there. In the sublimation of a desire, the individuality or the impulse of the desire is not allowed to remain outside the cause or the source from where it arises.

Why do desires arise? Here is a moot question before us. Why do we ask for that which is really not there, finally? Why do we ask for a satisfaction which is really not a satisfaction? How is it possible for us to get deceived so profoundly and so intensely, so miserably, from birth to death? This is a deep philosophical question, and the life spiritual is at the same time the life philosophical.

We are now trying to discover what it is that the yoga is finally telling us. It tells us that we have to meditate, and we have to attain communion with the Ultimate Being. It may be possible for some of us to feel a discomfiture even when these things are told to us. “Why should I commune with that Ultimate Being? What is wrong with me now? What is the harm if I am just what I am now? I have a fat salary, I am a rich man, I have a huge bungalow, I am well-off. What is the use of this communion with that which you call the Ultimate Being?” Such peculiar difficulties may arise even now itself, and these difficulties will heap up further problems in the form of a terrible situation we will have to face in our attempt to control the senses, or even in our attempt to lead a good life. Therefore, great patience is necessary. Yoga is not a three month course; it is a three births course, so be prepared for it.