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Thus, the immediate present is the object of concentration and, as I
mentioned to you in the previous session, nature does not gallop like a
horse. It moves smoothly like the flowing river and, therefore, little
things are to be taken care of first. "Take care of the pennies; the pounds
will take care of themselves," as the saying goes. Little drops make the
ocean. So do not say "I am a spiritual seeker; I am thinking of God", while
you are aching otherwise in your psyche, in your body or in your social
relations. Let firm steps be taken gradually. Fine physical health is necessary,
and a reasonably secure and comfortable life in the world is, of course,
very, very important. All this has to be taken care of and should never
be neglected. Do not allow the body to run riot or the mind to go hither
and thither in its own way. Care has to be taken in these little, small
things. Sometimes small things upset us much more than big things. One
event, one occurrence, one word is enough to upset you totally, and a tornado
or a whirlwind will not upset you so much. Hence, little things are big
things; they have to be taken notice of in a very concentrated manner.
From the physical, from the social, you rise to the sensory, the psychological,
the intellectual and the spiritual. These are the grades of the ascent
of yoga practice.
One of the ways to achieve concentration of the mind, the performance of
upasana, is to adopt some means of loving what you consider as your aim.
Finally, it is the love that you evince towards things that actually counts
in life. Whatever be the aim or the thing that you are pursuing, it should
not be mechanically pursued - and, also, it should be loved from the heart.
A thing that you do not love will not come to you. Not even a dog will
come near if you don't like it; if you dislike it, it will run away from
you. The affections that you evince from your heart are, to a large extent,
the thermometer which will decide the nature of the success in your concentration.
The concentration of the mind on your concept of God Almighty, for instance,
may be what you understand by upasana, or worship. From your own point
of view of understanding, it may be perfectly right, but there must be
an ardent longing for it. The Yoga Sutra tells us tivra samveganam asannah
(Y.S. 1.21): "It is near only to that person who ardently longs for it."
Anything that you intensely long for will come to you. This is the secret
of life. You must ask for it wholly, from the bottom of your heart; and
if you ask for it really - not unreally, from the lips only - and entirely,
totally, and want only that and nothing else, in keeping with the law of
things, it has to come. Therefore, the success in life, whether spiritual
or otherwise, is in the manner of your whole-souled pouring yourself upon
it, and your karma, your work, also should be a pouring of yourself upon
it. If you pour yourself on the work, the work will be beautiful. All work
is beauty; it is not ugly. It just looks ugly and a disastrous drudgery
because it is an outside thing weighing heavily upon you. Anything that
is outside you is not yours, and it is not worth attempting at all.
Therefore, the love of God must manifest itself in an appreciable measure
and, as you know very well, your mind is constituted in such a way that
you cannot love anything in this world wholly. You have some kind of affection
for certain things, but you cannot love anything entirely, unconditionally.
Here is the whole point. Unconditionally you cannot want anything. All your
wants are conditional. "Under these circumstances I want it. If these conditions
are fulfilled I like you. If these conditions are not fulfilled, go; I
don't want you." Do you call it love? And you use the same yardstick to
measure God Himself. "If these things come from Him, I like Him. If it
does not come, I may even think that He does not exist."
There was a devotee in Hong Kong, a well-wisher of the ashram and a devotee
of Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj. He had no children. Once, twice, thrice,
four times, five times he tried, but he could not beget children. He asked
people to do japa and so on. When he failed the sixth time also, he wrote
a letter: "I had a doubt that perhaps God does not exist; now it is clear
to me that He does not exist." This is the kind of expectation that we
have from God. If our bread and jam and our house and property are secure
from our own point of view, God must exist. If He is pouring rain for the
need of a farmer, but that rain causes a nearby building under construction to collapse, what do you call God - a kind person, or an unkind person?
There is a farmer with a dry field who expects rain, and nearby somebody
is building a house and he would not like heavy rain to fall on it. So,
what should God do at that time? Should He send rain or should He not send
rain? One person will praise God; another will curse Him.
This is to point out how difficult it is to understand things in a holistic
manner. If you cannot love a human being, you cannot love God either. Saints
tell you that if you cannot love what you see, how can you love what you
do not see? An abstract woolgathering manner, where you build castles in
the air about your love for God, cannot be regarded as affection because
even when you think that you love God, there may be suspicions inside:
"After all, I don't know what will happen. After all, nothing may take
place. After all, I may not achieve It. After all, It may not be existing
at all."
Varieties of doubts are listed in the Vedanta scriptures. "Such a Thing
may not be there; even if It is there it may be not possible for me to
achieve It; and even if I achieve It, what will be may fate, afterwards?"
Many of you must be having this difficulty: "After reaching God, what will
happen to me?" Do not say it is an unnecessary question; a very serious
matter it is. After attaining God, what will you do there? Will you go
on sweeping the floor of God's palace or looking at Him or receiving His
commands? If you find that it is a very unpleasant existence, what will
you do there? Here is the question: "What will I do there?" Purification
of the mind by way of unselfish karma, or action, will set at rest all
these difficulties. Because we are now thinking with a turbid mind, all
these questions arise which are partly humorous and partly foolish. Such
questions will arise because our concept of God is inadequate - inadequate
because our mind itself is not prepared for such a concept. So, by an arduous
attempt on our part to purify ourselves through worship, even by way of
ritual, japa sadhana, etc., much of this dirt can be scrubbed out and we
can attempt real concentration on the nature of Reality.
For your purposes as seekers of God, the object of meditation would be,
of course, your own notion of the Creator of the universe. This universe
must have come from some creative power. Ordinarily, you posit this creative
power as a transcendent element, above the world. You cannot immediately
imagine that It is just now, here, because It has created this which you
are seeing before your eyes and, therefore, It must have existed prior
to that which It has created. It is prior and, therefore, It is also transcendent.
The aboveness, the extra-cosmic nature, the transcendent character of
God is also something ingrained in our mind, however much we may go on
saying that He is immanent. God is above us; He is a distant object. The
idea of distance arises on account of spatiality and temporality involved
in our experience, and also due to our belief that God created the world
and, therefore, He must be above the world. Hence it is that we look up
to the skies with open eyes when we pray to God in our own humble way.
The personality of God is also something unavoidable in the earlier stages.
You may be told by people that God has no form. What is the use of saying
that? You cannot conceive a formless thing. Even the concept of the formless
is also a form only. Even water, which has no form by itself, will assume
form when it is poured into a bucket. The bucket's nature, the shape, is
the actual shape of the water. Thus, the manner of your thinking will decide
the form of the object of your meditation. Concentration on a particular
thing is what is insisted upon, and the point in concentration is that
you should not think more than one thing. To the extent you are able to
concentrate on one thing continuously for a large extent of time, to that
extent you are successful in concentration. If two thoughts arise in
the mind, it is not a successful concentration.
In the earlier stages, especially in the case of a novitiate, several thoughts
will arise. You will be struggling hard to fix your mind on some particular
thing and, at the same time, struggling to avoid thoughts which are irrelevant
from your point of view. When you think of God, you would not like ungodly
thoughts to enter your mind. If you think of God, you would not like the
thought of the marketplace to enter your mind. This is how you will feel
when you actually sit for meditation. That is, you will strive to shut
out certain thoughts which you regard as disharmonious with the characteristics of that on which you are concentrating. So, there are two thoughts.
Even in your attempt at concentration on one thing, two thoughts are there:
the thought of avoiding unnecessary things and the thought of that which
you consider as necessary.
There is also a third variety of thought - the mental placement of the ideal
in front of you. God Almighty, or whatever it is, is placed in the context
of your perception, through the mind. A kind of holy distance is maintained
between you and the object; it is not just touching you. It is difficult
to imagine such a thing. The thought that there is a little distance between
you and the object of meditation is one thought; the thought that you would
like to avoid is another thought; the thought of the nature of the object
is the third thought; and the thought that you are contemplating and you
are existing is the fourth thought. So, even when you are actually concentrating
on one thing - at least attempting to concentrate on one thing - you will find
that there are four thoughts automatically arising in your mind, though
apparently it appears that you are concentrating on one thing only. The
Yoga Sutras go into all these details.
These four thoughts are not actually distracting media; they are necessary
processes of overcoming the distractions of the mind. Later on, after some
time, having attained success in your concentration, you will find there
would be no necessity for you to avoid certain thoughts. It is only in
the earliest stages that you feel certain thoughts are unnecessary. "I
should not think of the jungle; I should not think of an animal; I should
not think of a railway station or a marketplace or something which is
unpleasant." This is what you think. But later on you will find there is
nothing unpleasant anywhere. The unpleasantness is only the wrong placement
of your personality in the context of that particular reference. You are
disharmoniously placed with that thing which you consider as evil, unholy,
unnecessary, etc. If you are harmoniously placed with an event that is
taking place or a thing that is there outside you, you will find that it
ceases to be something unnecessary or interfering; it will never interfere
with you. Your considering that it is unnecessary is the reason why it
starts interfering. When you have decided that you do not want a thing,
naturally you cannot expect any cooperation from that thing. But why should
you consider that a thing is unwanted and should be rejected? It is because
you have not understood it properly. The context of its existence in relation
to the context of your existence has not been properly grasped. Therefore,
in a certain advanced stage you will find that unnecessary thoughts will
not exist, because there is nothing totally unnecessary in this world.
This is a little advanced stage; in the early stages you will not be able
to realise this. Thus, with this precaution, take to concentration, and
take for granted that you have now achieved some success in making yourself
acquainted with the truth that there is nothing that you have to avoid
in this world. Thus, the world becomes friendly with you. A cool breeze
will blow and everything will be fragrant to you.
Then comes your difficulty with the object itself. How will you adjust
yourself with the presence of that object in front of you which does not
seem to be touching you, which is a little distant from you? Let the object
be at a distance; it does not matter. You can glory in the beauty and the
grandeur of that object for the time being. Inasmuch as you have concluded
that this object is ultimately real - if it had been not for that fact, you
would not be concentrating on it - it is the final thing for you, and all
things that you expect from anything will also be there in that thing,
and it will bestow upon you all that you expect. The Ishta Devata, the
object of your meditation, is capable of bestowing upon you all things
that are anywhere; it can give you anything. All the world's blessings
will come from that one thing, as it is a concentrated point of the whole
cosmos.
The idea of the object, the concept of the ideal before you, the Ishta
Devata so-called, is a concentrated spot of cosmic power. You can touch
it, and you will be touching the switchboard of the cosmos. It is not some
isolated dot or a thing that you are concentrating upon. The idea of isolatedness must be removed. It is touching one part of your body, as it
were. When you touch a part of the body, even a little spot, you are touching
the whole body. You know very well how it is, because the entire body is
concentrated on every part of the body. That is why you feel an entire
occurrence taking place even if only a little touch is made. Such a concept
has to be introduced into the object of meditation. It is not sitting somewhere.
"My God is somewhere; his God is somewhere else." It is not like that.
Actually, no object is in one place only. There is an interconnection,
vitally, of every object with every other object, as the limbs of the body
are connected integrally and internally. So you will feel happy to realise
that this object of your meditation is the touchstone of the success of
your meditation. It is the root of the whole cosmos; it is the vitality
which you are concentrating upon, by which you can evoke the powers of
the entire creation. It is something like an incarnation. An incarnation
of God may look like a particular individual, but it is the focussing point
of the entire power. The whole thing is concentrated there - all the world,
all creation. Then you will feel a joy inside. "I am not wasting my time
in concentration, because I am actually at one with that Force, which is
gazing at me with eyes that are multifaceted as if the whole cosmos is
looking at me." Great joy it is to realise this.
Thus, concentration will become an art of feeling joy. Concentration and
meditation are happy processes. You will never be tired, you will never
be exhausted by sitting for meditation. You will feel greater and greater
satisfaction, and every session of meditation will make you healthier,
stronger, more wholesome in your outlook, and you will be able to convince
yourself you have actually achieved something substantial. Today you have
become better than yesterday.
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