Advaitic Sadhana ^[1]

Chapter 1

Qualified Disciple

This is the age of shortcuts. Time has shrunk and space more so, and the dual inconvenience has affected men's moods and temper. Even the supreme Knowledge has nowadays to be given in massive doses and has to produce quick results too, or they will have none of it.

In olden days Brahmajnana (the knowledge of the Absolute) used to be imparted by the R.is (Self-realised sages) to their sannyasi (world renouncer) disciples only over a number of years. Staying with the Guru in seclusion, often in the forest, for the whole of the period was a prerequisite for many good reasons, which the disciples could not question. Now we cannot do that: time presses and our patience has, likewise, suffered contraction, so has our appreciation of the quest and the prize at issue. Besides, the culture which most of us have inherited is too extroverted and too aggressively intellectual to permit us to understand within a short time what it all means to be a sadhaka, a practical aspirant for a truth of which in our homes and colleges we were given an inkling. We are apt, moreover, to bring with us scraps of knowledge gleaned from a wide reading of miracleridden theology and .occultism., including an endeavour to accommodate the Vedanta inside them. The result is that we return from the Guru (the qualified Teacher) and his Ashram with our doubts still in our heads, uncleared, and our minds, about truth and untruth, still befogged.

It is necessary at the outset to understand that it is not possible to hound out avidya (the primeval ignorance arising out of the sense-perceptions) with a halfhearted approach, with scanty faith, with a mind weighed down by preconceptions, stubborn worldliness, fixed ideas and inordinate haste. These do not qualify for the supreme Knowledge (Jnana), which exacts a steady, unwavering, whole-hearted discipline. Authentic seekers are humble and modest in their expectations and do not, as a rule, lay down conditions in advance of their yogic practice, nor fix time as to their possible attainment of the Goal, but surrender themselves unreservedly to their sadhana (spiritual discipline) and to the guidance of the Teacher, unmindful of the results.

The seeker of the Absolute must have no object in life but the persistent pursuit of the Absolute, to which he bends all the power of his soul. To approach it in any other attitude, say with motives not strictly spiritual, or with a surfeited, insubordinate intellect, or to expect the Absolute to bend and yield its secrets in the first week or first month for one's own sake, for the sake of one's worldly achievements, illustrious ancestry or community, denotes a lack of the most elementary qualities that make one eligible for it. Eclecticism likewise has no place in this path: its application is poor, its understanding diffused, so are its spiritual yearnings.

It will be observed that this approach attacks the object, that is the world appearance, from two fronts . the one by investigation, which helps distinguish the sentient, changeless seer from the insentient, everchanging seen, the body; and the other by dhyana (meditation), which suppresses the seen and reveals the seer. With the former we dialectically expose the fallacy and worthlessness of the sense data and, thus, demolish the foundations over which we have been accustomed to raise the false structure of our knowledge, and with the other we dive deep into their substratum to find the subject as he is in himself, the owner of the senses, who is the absolute Reality. Sankara gives a picturesque description of the aspirant who qualifies for this knowledge and his approach to the Self-realised Teacher in ancient times: .We shall now explain the method by which Liberation is attained for the benefit of those who aspire for it and who desire to know this method with full faith.

Necessity of Sadhana

Chapter 2

THESE lines are a philosophy of life in a nutshell: they guide him who desires to live in peace with the world and with himself, as well as him who is bent upon taking the pilgrim's staff in search of the truth absolute and the freedom for which his soul yearns. They tell the former that peace is unattainable without mental steadiness, and the latter that mind control through meditation is absolutely essential to attain that Knowledge which alone can give release. The mind, which is the only instrument of knowledge man possesses, is usually never at rest and too entangled in the object of desire it perceives and in the duties, responsibilities and attachments which these impose upon it, to know how to release itself from them. The help of the Master becomes necessary to show the way out of the sense mess and into the aloneness of the Being (kaivalya), of the pure mind itself, which is all purity and tranquillity. This is the supreme knowledge to which the following lines refer:

To "triumph over death" discipline of the mind (sādhanā) is, therefore, necessary. As in deep sleep the subject enjoys the massive bliss of kaivalya when he sees no sights, hears no sounds, and is completely free from thoughts, so must the yogi in the waking state withdraw into the kaivalya of himself through meditation to attain the knowledge of the Being or Self, which is the supreme Liberation. This method is called jnana marga (the path of knowledge) or jnana yoga (the yoga of knowledge). In no system is the practice made so easy and safe as in this yoga, because, first, it is dialectical and, secondly, it is free from the dangers, which often result from misdirected practices which interfere with the natural functions of the body, or with supersensible forces lying beyond the control of the subject himself.

Jnana yoga, also called Advaitic sādhanā (nondualistic discipline), is the direct path to Liberation. The process can be summed up in only three words: Empty your mind. In dreamless sleep the mind is totally empty of thoughts, plunged as it is in the bliss of its own native state, the pure consciousness (cit). But waking is the state of thinking, which projects the worlds of time and space and covers the being, like the dust that covers a clean mirror. In order therefore to perceive this effulgent Being, thoughts have to be arrested; the mirror of the mind has to be cleared of its dust. This is called Tur.ya (the Fourth State, to distinguish it from the other three states of waking, dreaming and deep sleep), which experiences the blissful aloneness of su.upti (deep sleep) in the full view of the waking (jagrat), when the senses and the faculty of cognition are present but rendered inactive by practice. Its other name is samadhi, the ecstacy of self-cognition.

It goes without saying that the first attempts to arrest the onrush of thoughts appear frustrating, sometimes even painful, but success is sure to result from persistent efforts. Constant practice releases the mind from its inhibitions, its habits, memories, fear, suppressed longing, anxiety, etc., and establishes a free flow of the dhyanic current at the same time every day, if regularity in the practice is scrupulously maintained. Those who find it difficult to restrain the mind from the very start take to japa (repetition of a mantra, or holy name) which is soothing and awe inspiring, preparatory to meditation. The reduction of thoughts to a substantial degree is indispensable for entering the state of samadhi and, as this cannot be achieved without mind control, all other methods have eventually to pass into dhyana (meditation), when the mind will be able to stand .like the jet of a lamp that is protected from a breeze. (Patanjali). The japa will by then have ceased to be repeated orally, but will have turned into the silent ajapa, the serene quietude in the Heart which is the end and aim of dhyāna.

Other means of subduing the thinking faculty, such as drugs, breath control to obtain the cataleptic state of laya, interference with the uvula and the frenum lingui, etc., do not concern us here. Genuine sadhakas (practising yogis) avoid short cuts which may land them in dangerous situations. Dhyana and vichara (meditation and investigation), if done steadily, will not fail to take them safely to the glorious Self. It is not by stupefying or over-exciting the cerebral cells, nor by circumventing the century-old discipline, but by purifying and controlling the mind that the vision of Reality can be ensured.

Dhyana (Meditation)

Chapter 3

We have seen that sadhana is necessary for those who keenly feel the impermanence and hardships of the world of sense, and seek redemption from them and from the affliction of avidya (ignorance). We have also discussed the nature and results of the sadhana in general. Now we shall examine a few practical methods of dhyana which are known to have helped seekers throughout the centuries to tread the same path and arrive.

I wish first to remark that the failure of many people to lead their dhyana to success is due to two principal causes. First is their inability to concentrate at all, let alone for any appreciable length of time, which induces some of them to resort to makeshifts or follow a Guru who does not recommend dhyana. The second, by far the greater cause, is their starting with inadequate knowledge, with hazy, improperly-formed ideas about the aim and object of their meditation, which naturally results in their remaining in the cloud of uncertainty for a long time. The vast majority of beginners are in too great a haste to take to the road of dhyana before seizing themselves of all its facts and principles. Who is therefore to blame if they feel at a loss to know how to meditate, how to begin meditation, or if the meditation always remains thin and jejune? It is not enough to snatch a few slogans, shut the eyes, and start questioning oneself "Who am I?" or suggesting to oneself "I am not the body nor the senses,"etc. A comprehensive grasp of the Master's teaching and profound reflections are absolutely necessary to endow the meditator with a prior knowledge of what he is to expect from the dhyana and the direction it should take, or else who is to answer his questions? For the very mind that asks them is itself the Reality it is seeking, and if it has not been understood with full conviction as such, how can the meditation be clear in its objective to succeed? This is the stage when no one can help the meditator: he has to help himself by assiduous application and deep cogitation on the words of the Master to draw practical conclusions from them, which is itself a sort of meditation and which in course of time matures into the meditation proper, whose aim is to annihilate the vrtti (mind transformation or thoughts) which covers the reality of the Self, as has been explained in the last chapter.

Meditation is a self-contained process, which goes on correcting itself to perfection by trials and errors in him who comes prepared for it. It somehow finds its way by the light of its own torch, catching the smallest hints that rise from within or without and automatically acting on them without even the knowledge of the surface consciousness. The presence of the Guru is then of the greatest help, and must be availed of at any cost, if by then the Guru has revealed himself. If not, dwelling in holy places and clean environments is essential till the Guru is found. In fact, to those who have attained this state of maturity the Guru does not tarry to appear somehow. They are never left in the lurch for long in that respect. He is there waiting, as it were, all the time: the seeking, conscious or unconscious, is definitely mutual.

Residence with the Guru during the whole period of the practice is of inestimable value (occasional absenteeism excepted), for reasons which the sadhaka (the practitioner) will not fail to discover by himself after passing the stage of apprenticeship and beginning to know what is what in the true spiritual life. There will be, moreover, no particular inclination on his part to return to the world, if he means business and is truly fervent. The time factor is of the utmost importance to him: he abhors being a minute longer than he can help it in this welter of vanity, superficialities, and wasted efforts. He cannot afford to lead a busy life for pretty nothing, or lead a life of lax indifference. He has by then developed a positive detachment, contemplative habits, love for seclusion and for sattvic (pure) company, particularly that of the Guru. Yet the worldly-mindedness which he brings with him takes a long time to be rubbed off. Its substitution by the nivrtti (return to the being) impressions is made easy by meditative efforts, supplemented by the holiness which ceaselessly emanates from the Guru. Worldly people call this penance (tapas), of which they are very scared, indeed, imagining it to call for Herculean efforts and great sacrifices. Nothing is farther from the truth. Apart from the very first steps there exists no suffering worth mentioning for those who are seriously inclined towards it. The suffering seen by others in the tapasvin lies only in their own imagination. The tapasvin himself enjoys the indescribable bliss of the inner freedom which tapas affords   freedom from the terrible load with which the world burdens the ordinary life. The tapasvin has thrown down that load and is now free. The strict meaning of tapas in this path is adherence to the quest for the Self, and if the Self has already been realised, continued inherence in it, not allowing oneself to slip back again to the world of the senses (Ramana Gita, XI, 19). The true tapasvin is he who has, in his heart and mind, turned his back completely to the world. If he has not done that, domestic life is best for him. He will be freer at home than in an Ashram or a temple to pursue his seeking even in the midst of his worldly affairs. It is no use being in an Ashram in seclusion when the instrument through which he expects to attain peace   the mind   is itself disturbed by longings.

It goes without saying that this has nothing whatever in common with the flesh and soul mortifications of the Hindu and Christian extremists, of the cave and desert hermits. The Bhagavad Gita insists on moderation in everything and on the necessity of maintaining good health and mental ease and comfort.

Once the mind is cleared of the dead past it will be amenable to adjust itself to the new conditions. The Guru, let it be at once stated, merely reveals this truth and its import to the sadhaka and points the direction to it, but he cannot take the place of the meditation, which is the preparation of the mind for the supreme experience by the yogi himself, no more than the schoolmaster can himself make the study on behalf of his pupils. Nor can the Guru confer the ability to meditate, or, for the matter of that, mukti (Liberation) itself by an act of His will. For then there would be no need for any practice whatever, or for even self-purification: who would then take all this trouble when a simple request to the Guru would do the trick? Sadhana would then be a mockery and mukti valueless. Moreover, the true Guru is not less than a jivanmukta, one who had divested Himself of all personal volition even prior to His attainment, and, when He had become the one Self, the absolute Brahman, not only the personal will but also the vision of multiplicity, of otherness, had ceased to exist for Him. To ascribe to Him, therefore, partiality and discrimination denotes ignorance, if not also disloyalty to Him. Yet miracles, as acts of His Grace, do sometimes appear, but these are not brought about consciously and deliberately by Him as an individual, but the powers latent in His pure mind mysteriously respond in their own gracious ways, if the prarabdha (destiny) of the devotee concerned is favourable.

The impulse and desire for meditation have thus to be born inside the sadhaka's own heart, and they are invariably so born when the heart by long-sustained aspirations has sufficiently blossomed and developed an appreciable degree of detachment (vairagya) and the mind has cooperated with it in a rational sensitivity to truth and in a power of discrimination (viveka). The Guru becomes then extremely valuable, not only as a revealer of the Truth and the way to it, but also as an inspiring, purifying and soothing influence which calms the storm which agitates the hearts not yet turned truly ascetic, hastening the maturing of meditation into samadhi.

The true seeker goes on plodding with his meditation day in and day out, year in and year out, supplementing it in his free hours with the study of the subject of his meditation, so that his mind may not lie fallow and fall back in its old ruts, or retrospect on incidents the memory of which does decided harm to his sadhana. A careful watch has to be kept on the tricks of the memory which keeps bringing to the present sorrowful and remorseful events and associations, which had better remain buried in the past. Equally distressing is the memory of persons who, in their times, had left profound marks on the heart and mind. All these recollections have to be guarded against and nipped in the bud the moment they make their appearance. The past, in brief, has to be thrown into limbo to preserve the calm which is necessary for the practice.

Once out of the initial darkness the mind becomes eager to receive concrete directions and hints, which throw some light on its journey in this uncharted land of the spirit, which stretches before it to infinity without landmarks or milestones.

We come now to the core of the subject — meditation. What is meditation, and why it is practised?

Meditation is simply the repeated attempt to withdraw one's thoughts from the multitude of objects around and fix them on only one object   the subject chosen for concentration. In chapter two we have dealt with the restlessness and unhappiness of the unrestrained, diffused mind. Although the mind is said to be fleeter than the wind, fleeter than lightning and thus uncontrollable, yet by constant practice it slowly bends and acquires quiescence and depth till it reaches the Heart or Self, which is absolute peace, the mind's own true nature, free from thoughts. This is the true meditation and its aim in this yoga.

Below is the conclusion of Chapter Three on Dhyana (meditation) from S.S.Cohen's 1975 publication, titled Advaitic Sadhana.

To those who are unable to choose their own subjects for concentration the following hints are given.

1. Meditation on the nature of the Being, which is the source and substratum of all thoughts known in the srutis (the revealed scriptures) as the Akasa (ether) of consciousness, or Heart, develops an intuition of it, wearing away all the images from the meditating mind, polishing it and, finally, revealing it to be the shining sun of knowledge, free from the dark cloud of the phenomena (or thoughts) that have hitherto been covering it. Its other names are: Cit, Caitanya, Atman, Paramatman (Pure Mind, Pure Consciousness, Self, Supreme Self), etc. Shaandilya Upanisad describes this practice graphically thus:

O Shaandilya, be happy. Place the Self in the midst of the Akasa, and the Akasha in the midst of the Self and, having reduced everything to Akasa, do not think. You will not entertain then either internal or external thoughts. Abandoning all thoughts, become abstract thought itself. As camphor dissolves in fire and salt in water, so does manas (the thinking faculty) dissolve in Tattva (the Reality). What is termed manas is the knowledge of everything that is cognised. When this knowledge and the cognised object are alike lost, there is no second path. By giving up all cognition of objects, the manas is absorbed and Kaivalya — the aloneness of Being — remains.

It will be observed that this approaches the Reality — Sat-Cit-Ananda (Existence-consciousness-bliss) — from its Cit aspect, that is, as Consciousness.

2. Another helpful method is to begin meditation with a happy mood, with no object in view but the feeling of happiness in the heart. This can be created in so many ways in the imagination and maintained throughout the duration of meditation. Happiness, being the nature of the Self, facilitates the approach to it, provided the mind is kept easy, thought-free and alert without self-assertiveness. The mental and physical relaxation which precedes

sleep is also felt here, but without its companion, torpor. This should be held on to for as long a time as possible and, whenever a thought appears, it should be immediately checked to prevent a return to the welter of thinking and feeling. A conscious, thought-free and happy alertness is the principal ingredient of this method and, when made firm by practice, it will eventually turn out to be the very consciousness of the quest. If a blank state supervenes in meditatioA it should be ignoredand not dwelt upon, for it will dissipate in the course of the practice. The thought of the blank is more harmful to the meditation than the blank itself. This approaches the Reality from its Ananda (bliss) aspect.

3. Sri Ramana Maharshi takes the search for the root of the 'I'-sense to yield the best results, and so it has proved to many of his disciples. It is based on the undeniable fact of one's own existence, which is self-evident and, as existence is by its very definition eternal and absolute, tracing one's 'I' to its source is bound to reveal its truth. The common man identifies this 'I' with the body and becomes inextricably involved in the complex problems of the body, but the seeker has since a long time detached himself from the grossest form of this identification, as is proved by his spiritual urge. When he appears before the Guru and determines to dedicate himself to the life of the spirit, it is obvious that his 'body-I' relation has become attenuated enough to break down when persistently challenged by investigations, which, in this school, consists of the Self-Inquiry of WHO AM I? The knot which ties the one to the other grows looser as the seeker's attention is more and more diverted from the insentient body to the nature of his sentient 'I'. This inquiry – vichaara – (which is associated with the Maharshi's name), when thoroughly mastered and intelligently applied, acts in two ways: by meditation it wards off all other thoughts and retains the mind's purity, and by analysis and reflection it exposes the insentience and transience of the body, as contrasted with the infinite, intelligent 'I' which pervades it as life and consciousness. As the water in which a sponge has been soaked alone remains after the sponge is removed, so does the intelligent pervader of the body alone remain when the body or body-thought is cut down by the dual process of vichaara and dhyana. This approach to the Absolute is from the Sat or Being aspect.

4. There is yet another method which is used in dhyana yoga by the few who cannot straightway begin meditation, namely, breath-control (pranayama). A vast literature has been written on this method, with which, however, this yoga does not concern itself, except for the sole purpose of stabilising the mind. It is a proven fact that breathing and thinking function simultaneously in the waking state, so that if the breath is controlled by a special exercise, the thinking faculty follows suit as a matter of course. With alternate inhaling and exhaling, there comes in between them a short period of rest called kumbhaka, which secures a corresponding rest in the mind, and which by practice can be lengthened at will to bring the attention to a focus from which the dhyana can start on its own. This is the strict use that the dhyana yogi makes of the pranayama. If he goes much farther than this, or fails to resort to dhyana, he ceases to be a dhyana yogi but a digressor into practices which lead to unpredictable ends.

The foregoing few methods of dhyana are, let it be clearly understood, mere hints to the sadhaka to include in his own peculiar approach. Hints are also the Guru's directions. Meditation, being the spontaneous urge of the external man to surrender himself – his thoughts and feelings – to the Eternal in him, is purely individual, so that it may be truly said that meditation has as many forms as there are meditators. It may even begin with an external worship (upasana or devotional out-pourings and gradually mellows down to the point where thoughts are suspended, including that of the worshipped object, leaving the yogi's own self alone as the ultimate residue. In all cases, the external worship has eventually to turn upon itself and become Self-worship, which is the highest bhakti (parabhakti), than which there is no higher.

It has to be remembered that one and only one method should be used at a time, or else the yogi will be completely baffled. If he is in doubt about the advantage of his approach, he should try the one that he thinks suits him best, give it a fair trial, and then abandon it, should it prove unsuitable till he finally stumbles on the best and easiest. Generally yogis find their own form of meditation almost from the start, as naturally as free water finds its own level by an immutable natural law.

Chapter IV: Pitfalls

While on the subject of meditation it will be worth our while to draw the attention of the sadhaka to the variety of sensory experiences which some beginners obtain, or imagine they obtain, in meditation. The case of the gentleman who had heard an explosion inside his skull and had run out of the meditation room all atremble, is exceptional, no doubt, but by no means unique. The number of visions is certainly legion, but less in the ordinary state of consciousness than in meditation. Super-sensuous hearing and seeing are frequent to those who expect them and even pray for them, mistaking them for signs of Divine Grace. In this sadhana they are condemned: they harass only beginners, or the mentally immature who entertain wrong, fantastic notions of the yogic practice. The world, we have seen, is but the shadow-play of the senses, to suppress which we take to sadhana, so that falling victim to the senses in the very attempt at destroying them is admitting Maya by the back door. Yogis must be warned against these fraudulent experiences: whatever is seen, heard, or smelt in meditation is pure fancy and, therefore, must be mercilessly ignored; it will eventually give way before a determined practice. A very large section of humanity equates miracles and visions with holiness, and the common folk in this country (India) likewise view them with undisguised awe, so that millions flock to him who can exhibit a pennyworth miracle. Vedantic India abhors them, and has a profound contempt for the conscious display of siddhis (psychic powers), except by the jnani-siddhas on special but very infrequent occasions, for it detracts from the realization of the Truth, which is the sole aim of this yoga. These siddhas must be distinguished from the so-called "Occultists" who claim to have siddhis but have no jnana (knowledge of the Reality), nor specifically aim at achieving it.

Those who claim and work for miracles and siddhis, by whatever name they are known, have no place in the path of the Absolute. The seekers of the Absolute have to guard against these lures and traps of the senses, and against the fables that circulate about the dangers of yoga. Dhyana yoga must be purified from these excrescences and, being safe and simple, it can be practised by anyone, at any time, and in any healthy and clean environment and circumstance without the slightest fear or hesitation.

Chapter V: Samadhi

The word samadhi has often been translated as 'trance' in English, which is highly misleading. Trance has a bad odour, and can by no means convey the idea of cinmatra, the pure consciousness which is vividly experienced in the heart in samadhi. Advaitic samadhi has no resemblance whatever to the cataleptic trance which the mysteries of ancient Egypt and Greece were said to induce, or to the contemplation of the religious mystic. Hence I have left samadhi untranslated throughout this essay. The terms Nirvana and Mind (not manas) used by Zen Buddhists and Mahayanists seem to have the same connotation as samadhi.

Samadhi is therefore the experience of the pure, formless consciousness in the heart, which, once experienced, is never lost. The seeking will then end, and the consolidation of the experience into the permanency of sahaja samadhi alone remains to be achieved. With rare exceptions the early experience of samadhi is vague and shaky, but it acquires firmness by practice, which is no longer the same as the pre-samadhi practice, which has been one of searching for the Heart. Henceforth meditation is effortless to a degree, and free from the strain and doubts of the past.

If the samadhi continues to be disturbed by thoughts, it is called savikalpa, in which, though peaceful, the world, as thoughts, is still feebly present. It has not yet become firm enough to free itself from thinking, which is the characteristic of the next higher samadhi, the nirvikalpa, wherein the mind stands poised in the stillness of the Heart. This is the Svarupa (the very nature) of existence and of all things, the Being or Self absolute. When by constant practice nirvikalpa samadhi is turned into sahaja, Self-realization or Jivanmukti - the state of Liberation-in-life - is said to have been achieved. The Jivanmukta is permanently aware of his reality as consciousness-bliss.

I have given these details in the hope of dispelling some of the myths which have been woven by imaginative writers around nirvikalpa and around samadhi. The mysteries which are said to shroud them do not exist at all. Samadhi is the state of one's own true Self, in which all human endeavours find fulfillment. Love for power, wealth, fame, country, service of humanity or religious worship has samadhi, or Self-discovery, alone for its objective. For him who has achieved it there remains nothing more to do or aspire for in life: he has realised his own truth, as the all, the soul of all, dwelling ever and ever in the hearts of all. And because his state is beyond common experience, it has been subject to so much speculation and unintelligent guesswork. Hence is the need for the above details.

Chapter VI: The Sattvic Food

IN every country in this wide world there are a good number of people who lead a virtuous life and attempt to tread the path of true religion and piety, each according to his light. Of these not a few aspire to follow the Vedantic tradition, and are eager to know the kind of diet they should adopt for this purpose. Their eagerness is quite understandable, considering the distinct effects of food and drink on our physical and moral well-being – effects which can be by no means minimised. Who has not been a witness to the injuries of strong liquor to oneself and one's near and dear, or to the suffering caused by certain articles of diet to a constitution which is not suited to them? And when the body is struck down by a disease, or becomes upset, the mind, which is our most precious asset, goes down the same slope. This is what caused the ancients to prescribe a regimen for the yogi and to warn him against indiscriminate feeding.

To perform sadhana a sound health is of paramount importance. We cannot be too careful to avoid anything which is likely to disturb the balance of our physical economy. The quantity of food we ingest is not of less importance than its quality. And no food can be expected to yield the desired nourishment but the simplest, which is easily digestible, prevents accumulation, fermentation and general discomfort. This food we call sattvic (harmonious, compatible, agreeable) and is of much help to the sadhana. No hard and fast rule can be made for the articles which should be used in the diet. Constitutions differ; so do climatic conditions. What is good for one person and in one part of the world may not be good for another and in another part of the world. The question of availability must also be considered. Yet so much can be said about the diet in general, namely, that animal food is discouraged in this path, especially if the animal concerned is developed in bulk, or low and loathsome in habits. One need hardly specify. He who has chosen this spiritual line will not fail to distinguish between the clean and the unclean, and between what is good for him to eat and what is not.

In India the food served in ashrams and temples as well as in most brahmin houses consists of some of the following: rice, wheat, pulses, milk, butter, ghee, fresh vegetables, nuts, etc., cooked in simple style, in addition to fruits and moderate quantities of tea and coffee. There are also very large non-brahmin communities all over the country which consider it a sacrilege to feed on flesh, so that a very high percentage of the Hindu population is pure vegetarian and, notwithstanding, keeps a robust health and sturdy constitution. As for drink, nothing can be healthier than pure, fresh water. Intoxicants are strictly prohibited, for they fuddle and muddy up the mind which with extreme care we are preparing for the supreme experience. It is only when the body is healthy and in perfect ease, and the mind clear, happy and alert that this yoga can succeed.

Chapter 7 — Sādhakas (Practicing Disciples)

TRUTH seekers who resort to a Brahmarshi (the Sage who has realised Brahman, the Absolute or Self) for guidance are of great variety. They are not and cannot all be of the same mental and spiritual outlook, the same intellectual abilities or constitutional make up to follow the same course of meditation, or hold to it for the same length of time, etc. Modes of meditation differ from one sādhaka to another, as modes of thinking and of self-expression differ among individuals in ordinary life. Inspirations and light come to all of them in various ways, and each follows them as best suits his temperament and in the manner most conducive to his progress. Again, not all come with the same amount of preparation to their credit. Some are ripe, some less so, others are people of the world with yet very strong inclinations for the life spiritual. Some begin with material motives but get caught on the way and turn spiritual.

The Guru knows each and every one of them, yet keeps his own counsel. In his infinite compassion he looks upon all with an eye of perfect equality, so that each disciple may, in his free and pure atmosphere, rise to the greatest heights of his spiritual potentialities. Grace and holiness flow from the Guru as spontaneously as light flows from the sun, or fragrance from the flower. They are ceaseless and infinite.

The foremost sādhaka is he who has surrendered himself completely to the practice, which he views as the only reason for his being in an embodied existence. Nothing else matters to him. His mind remains fixed on the search for the Heart, whether in his meditation, which is the time for intense concentration, or in his studies. In this mood he makes rapid progress, for then the mind will be able to shed quickly much of its inherited encumbrances and propensities – its vasanas – and replace them by the habits of the quest. He asks nothing of the Guru that has no bearing on his sadhana, and desires nothing but to be left in peace to pursue it in his own way.

Next is the sādhaka who cannot sustain a prolonged concentration, but compensates by long stays in the presence of the Guru and more study. After him comes the one who cannot meditate at all, preferring to serve the Guru in all sorts of ways. He earns the merit of serving a Guru and a Brahmarshi and at the same time benefits by his tranquil atmosphere, with the result that his mind will, in course of time, be fit for meditation.

Next is the devotee who does not strictly come in the sādhaka category. He does not stay with the Guru, but visits him off and on, and performs sadhana in his own way at home. He may have a family whom he finds it his duty to maintain and look after. There is no valid objection to a married life, notwithstanding the widespread prejudice against it. The objection is to the net of complexities which a married life, especially in the present-day society, weaves round the life of the seeker, which impels many of them to keep away from matrimonial ties in order to be free to surrender themselves to the life contemplative.

Many other classes of devotees crowd round the Guru, ranging from the householder who considers sadhana superfluous, taking the Master to be like a solid raft which carries all the passenger-devotees to the other shore of Mukti (liberation) with all their luggage of sins and shortcomings, to the one who expects a return on his devotion, or the one who first puts the Guru to the test in his worldly affairs before accepting him. All these benefit by their attachment to the Master, for no one who draws near the fire will miss being comforted to a degree by its warmth. The Guru, like the sun, sheds his light on one and all, leaving it to each devotee to receive the quantum which is commensurate with his ability to absorb. Worldliness sticks to all the disciples in various degrees, which the Master's holy presence mysteriously rubs off, particularly in those who cooperate in their sadhana with humility, detachment, and a strong commonsense.

The variety of ways God or the Self brings men to him is amazing to watch. No one is forgotten; no one is forever left behind, and no one is totally annihilated as a ‘lost’ soul for whatever wickedness one has at one time or other been guilty of. The creed of ‘lost’ souls is not that of the Vedanta: it does not fit in with its teaching of the single Substance, single Existence.

Chapter 8 — Conclusion

THOSE who are already sādhakas are on the highway to Release. To them there is nothing more to say. They are already safe. Nor is there anything more to say to those who are on the brink. These need a little push – a gentle push – and they will be soon squatting at the feet of the Guru, appealing for light. The more sluggish ones need a more forcible push to make them fall into line with the former. To these one would suggest: do not lag behind and waste your time in useless things. Do not wait for the knock down. You are almost a renouncer. Start your march towards your destined goal right now, as start you will some day, somehow. Change your outlook on life and your values of the things in which you have reposed your trust for happiness. For none can give you true happiness, neither man, woman nor even God Himself, but the spiritual strength derived from self-restraint, self-discovery, and aspirations for Truth.

Kaivalya Upanishad begins with a prayer of the disciple to Lord Parameshwara, the Supreme Guru:

The Blessed Lord answers: