Entries Tagged as 'The Mind'
January 28th, 2010
Part 7 in the Commentary on Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, by Swami Nirmalananda Giri
Sutra 1:17. Samprajñata Samadhi is that which is accompanied by reasoning, reflection, bliss and sense of pure being.
Samprajñata samadhi, also known as savikalpa samadhi, is defined by A Brief Sanskrit Glossary as: “State of superconsciousness, with the triad of meditator, meditation and the meditated; lesser samadhi; cognitive samadhi; samadhi of wisdom; meditation with limited external awareness. Savikalpa samadhi.” It is a kind of superconscious bridge between relative and absolute consciousness, partaking of both, but neither exclusively. Its distinctive qualities are:
- The capacity for vitarka–thought and reasoning with sense perception.
- The capacity for vichara–subtle thought and reflection.
- Experience of bliss (ananda).
- Experience of the sense of “I am,” “I exist,” the sense of individuality of being (asmita).
Vyasa and Shankara consider this verse as a list of ascending forms of lesser samadhi. Vyasa sums it up: “Of these the first samadhi–with verbal associations, vitarka–is associated with all four [forms]. The second–with subtle associations, vichara–is without the verbal associations of the first. The third–with associations of bliss, ananda–is without the subtle associations of the second. The fourth, being pure I-am, is without the association of bliss. All these samadhis rest on an object.” Shankara explains regarding this: “In this sequence of four, an earlier one is associated with the qualities of all the later ones, and a later one is without the qualities of any earlier one.”
Sutra 1:18. The remnant impression left in the mind on the dropping of the Pratyaya after previous practice is the other [i.e., Asamprajñata Samadhi].
There are two forms of samadhi: samprajñata and asamprajñata. Samprajñata samadhi is characterized by the four qualities listed in the last verse. When those four are also removed by further practice, then the state of asamprajñata is reached. Jnaneshwara puts it very well and completely: “The other kind of samadhi is asamprajñata samadhi, and has no object in which attention is absorbed, where only latent impressions [samskaras] remain; attainment of this state is preceded by the constant practice of allowing all of the gross and subtle fluctuations of mind [vrittis] to recede back back into the field from which they arose.”
Sutra 1:19. Of those who are Videhas and Prakrtilayas birth is the cause.
Patanjali is now discussing those people who from birth are seen to possess marked psychic faculties and psychic powers–even to a miraculous degree. Such persons are usually assumed to be spiritually advanced and are respected accordingly, but this is not wise. It is only because of certain abnormalities in their previous life (or lives) that they now manifest these abilities. Patanjali says that simply being born precipitates these capabilities, and not yoga at all–no, not even in a previous life. He speaks of two classes of such people: videha and prakritilaya.
Videha means “bodiless” and he is referring to persons who for some reason spent a great deal of their time in the previous life separated from their bodies to a great degree. Edgar Cayce, “the sleeping prophet,” said that in his previous life he had undergone a lingering death on a battlefield in which his subtle bodies had been almost completely separated from the physical. Dying in that state, when he was reborn he possessed the intense psychic, almost mediumistic, powers he utilized in his later healing work. Spontaneous astral projectors are videhas.
A prakritilaya is a person who in a previous birth has somehow become absorbed into certain psychic levels of existence–the subtle energies of Prakriti. Having identified with psychic energies, when they are born they have the ability to access those powers and even work miracles.
Vedehas usually manifest intellectual psychic abilities–intution, etc., and prakritilayas actually make external changes or produce external phenomena. However, each may overlap into the territory of the other.
The important point Patanjali is making here is that they are NOT spiritually advanced people, but only possessors of unusual abilities, and we must not make the mistake of attributing spiritual wisdom and worth to them. A vivid case was that of Aimee Semple McPherson, the famous evangelist who was a remarkable psychic and healer. She was hailed as a greatly spiritual and even holy person, but in reality she was a drug and sex addict, remarkably unintelligent and amoral, and in the end committed suicide. One time in New Delhi I was visiting with John McDiarmid, head of the UN mission to India. John kept declaring that if he believed “Sister Aimee” had really worked miracles he would stop believing in God–for he knew her true character. Like so many of East and West, John could not distinguish between the psychic and the spiritual. But Patanjali certainly could, and so can we if we apply ourselves.
Sutra 1:20. [In the case] of others [upaya-pratyaya yogis] it is preceded by faith [shraddha], energy [virya], memory [smriti] and high intelligence [samadhi-prajña] necessary for Samadhi.
Upaya-pratyaya yogis are those that have followed the traditional sequence of yogic practices and disciplines. Their attainments are directly related to–a result of–specific methods. They have not arisen “out of the blue” but have a firm, known basis. Blavatsky often warned her students to not put faith in “natural” psychics who had either been born psychic or had suddenly, spontaneously become psychic. She explained that such persons have no real control over and understanding of their abilities. Further, their abilities could lessen or disappear as mysteriously as they appeared. Instead she advised them to only consult and have faith in “developed” psychics–those who had become psychic by following specific disciplines and who could keep themselves up to the optimum level through those practices.
The superconscious experience of authentic yogis is preceded and produced by:
- Shraddha–the faith, confidence, or assurance that arises from personal experience. It can also be based on developed intuition. It may even be faith in a teacher who has been perceived to be trustworthy–faith that stimulates the yogis to practice faithfully. Shraddha can be a factor behind perseverance in yoga practice.
- Virya is strength, power, energy, and courage. Obviously all are needed to initiate and maintain yoga sadhana unto its fruition.
- Smriti is memory or recollection. In this context it means a constant awareness of divine realities, a continual keeping in mind the principles of spiritual life and especially remembering to maintain constant mental practices such as mantra japa.
- Samadhi-prajna is an interesting hybrid term. Prajna is basically consciousness, but it is also intelligent awareness or wisdom, and even intelligence itself. Samadhi-prajna is all this, but it has been produced by samadhi–including the basic spiritual opening states that lead up to full-blown samadhi. Ordinary prajna can be possessed by anyone who has a developed brain and nervous system, but samadhi-prajna is rooted in spirit-consciousness–spirit-intelligence.
I think we can conclude that samadhi is only attained by special people possessing markedly special qualities and abilities. Fortunately, we can all be such special persons, for that is our potential and our destiny. But we must work at it untiringly and constantly. Yogis do not go on vacations any more than God does. “Full steam ahead” is the way.
Vyasa encapsulates it perfectly: “The samadhi resulting from a means [i.e., practice] is for yogis. Faith is a settled clarity of the mind: like a good mother, it protects a yogi. When he has that faith, and is seeking knowledge, there arises in him energy. When energy has arisen in him, his memory stands firm. When memory stands firm, his mind is undisturbed and becomes concentrated in samadhi. To the mind in samadhi comes knowledge by which he knows things as they really are. From practice of these means, and from detachment from the whole field of mental process, arises asamprajñata samadhi.”
Then Vyasa writes a kind of preface or introduction for the next verse:
“Yogis are of nine kinds, according to the methods which they follow, either mild or moderate or intense, and then subdivided according to the energy–mild, moderate or intense–with which they practice these respective methods. A mild method may be practiced with mild or moderate or ardent energy, and so with the moderate method. Of those who practice intense methods,… Continued in the next installment, How Near is God-Consciousness?
Previous installment: The Two Essential Pillars of Yoga
More from the Yoga Sutra Commentary:
Tags: Meditation · The Mind · Yoga Sutras
January 12th, 2010
Part 6 in the Commentary on Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, by Swami Nirmalananda Giri
Sutra 1:12. Their suppression [is brought about] by persistent practice [abhyasa] and non-attachment [vairagya].
Two things are needed for the ending of mental modifications. One is abhyasa–sustained spiritual practice. This is why Krishna speaks of abhyasa yoga. The other is purely psychological: vairagya. A Brief Sanskrit Glossary defines vairagya as: “Non-attachment; detachment; dispassion; absence of desire; disinterest; or indifference. Indifference towards and disgust for all worldly things and enjoyments.”
Sutra 1:13. Abhyasa is the effort for being firmly established in that state [of chitta-vritti-nirodha].
Jnaneshwara expands on this, saying: “Abhyasa means choosing, applying the effort, and doing those actions that bring a stable and tranquil state.” Shankara simply says that abhyasa consists of the observance of yama and niyama, which are to be discussed later on.
Sutra 1:14. It [abhyasa] becomes firmly grounded on being continued for a long time, without interruption and with reverent devotion.
Vyasa: “Carried through with austerity, with brahmacharya, with knowledge and with faith, in reverence it becomes firmly grounded.”
Shankara: “Unless it is for a long time, and unless it is uninterrupted, the practice does not become firmly grounded.”
Sutra 1:15. The consciousness of perfect mastery [of desires] in the case of one who has ceased to crave for objects, seen or unseen, is Vairagya.
Sri Ramakrishna said: “A certain woman said to her husband: ‘So-and-so has developed a spirit of great dispassion for the world, but I don’t see anything of the sort in you. He has sixteen wives. He is giving them up one by one.’ The husband, with a towel on his shoulder, was going to the lake for his bath. He said to his wife: ‘You are crazy! He won’t be able to give up the world. Is it ever possible to renounce bit by bit? I can renounce. Look! Here I go.’ He didn’t stop even to settle his household affairs. He left home just as he was, the towel on his shoulder, and went away. That is intense renunciation.
“There is another kind of renunciation, called ‘markata vairagya,’ ‘monkey renunciation.’ A man, harrowed by distress at home, puts on an ochre robe and goes away to Benares. For many days he does not send home any news of himself. Then he writes to his people: ‘Don’t be worried about me. I have got a job here.”
Vairagya is not an on-and-off matter, but a permanent cessation of any desire for any object whatsoever. Vyasa says that one with true vairagya “is inwardly aware of the defects in objects by the power of his meditation.”
Sutra 1:16. That is the highest Vairagya in which, on account of the awareness of the Purusha, there is cessation of the least desire for the Gunas.
The preceding verse was about vairagya in relation to objects. This goes further and speaks of dispassion-desirelessness is relation to the three modes of Prakriti, the gunas. These are discussed at length in the Bhagavad Gita, but simply put they are the three modes of energy behavior–qualities of energy. A Brief Sanskrit Glossary defines guna as: “Quality, attribute, or characteristic arising from nature (Prakriti) itself; a mode of energy behavior. As a rule, when “guna” is used it is in reference to the three qualities of Prakriti, the three modes of energy behavior that are the basic qualities of nature, and which determine the inherent characteristics of all created things. They are: 1) sattwa–purity, light, harmony; 2) rajas–activity, passion; and 3) tamas–dullness, inertia, and ignorance.”
There can be attachment to the qualities of subtlety, intelligence, and purity (sattwa), of effectiveness and efficiency and mastery (rajas), and stability and steadiness (tamas). But these, too, are illusory like other objects.
However such vairagya does not come from insight into the nature of objects or gunas but from knowing the Self. Only when we enter fully into the Self will all desire of any kind cease. For that reason Self-knowledge or atma-jnana should be our aim at all times, for that alone will eliminate all that stands between us and perfect freedom (moksha or jivanmukti).
Tags: Meditation · The Mind · Yoga Sutras
January 6th, 2010
A s the human being moves up the ladder of evolution, so the center of his consciousness moves into successively higher bodies. Those of the lowest evolutionary status are aware only of their physical entity and live as though that alone were real. Simple survival and physical maintenance are their sole drives. It is these people who demand that their religion promise them earthly benefits, an earth-type afterlife, and the eventual resurrection of the body and its possession by them eternally.
In the next step of evolution the individual begins to identify intensely with his feelings, especially his emotions, and gauges all things by his emotional reaction to them. This person demands that his religion will reunite him with his “loved ones” in “the sweet by and by” where he will be everlastingly “happy.”
On the next rung of the evolutionary ladder, the human being becomes identified with and absorbed in the senses, reaching out for more and novel sensory experiences. He demands that his religion take him to heaven where he will hear beautiful music, seek beautiful scenes, and eat of the fruits of paradise.
Stepping up to the next rung, the human being discovers the wonder of his intellect. Therefore he will demand of his religion–if he does not think he is “beyond religion” by virtue of his intellectual brilliance–that it explain everything to him and make all mysteries known so that there is nothing he does not “understand.”
Although physical, emotional, and sensory conditions may still greatly affect him, he has grown somewhat tired of them. But now he has this new toy, the whole new dimension of the intelligent mind, the ability to bring into his scope of perception ideas of things he never dreamed of in previous lives. And so he becomes like a bird that has been caged so long he only wants to fly and fly and fly in the realms of the intellect. Just as a person who has almost died of thirst tends to drink too much, or someone who has been starving tends to eat too much, in the same way the intellectual man ends up with mental indigestion.
There has to be more
Finally it dawns on him that playing with all those ideas has not really produced any change or gotten him anywhere. In other words, we can think and think about water, we can discuss water, we can learn its chemical formula, we can read books on water, but all that does not give us a single drop of the real thing. Sri Ramakrishna used to say you can squeeze and squeeze the almanac that predicts the rainfall, but you cannot get a single drop of rainwater out of it. In the same way, we cannot satisfy our hunger by merely reading about food-in fact, it will make us hungrier.
So in time we come to learn that abstractions are not enough. But most of the great teachers in the world have spoken in abstractions–at least publicly or through scriptures–on a very high and exclusively intellectual level.
What about the “how”?
Although the great masters might speak of what attainments are possible through the evolution of the human consciousness and urge people to move on higher to these states, the “how” has almost always in time been lost because people have preferred to hear the ideals rather than learn the process for their actualization. We keep a description of the goal, but we lose lose the map, so we cannot find the goal.
It is very inspiring to read such things as how the goal of the spirit is to be like the radiant drop of dew which drops into and merges in the infinite Ocean of Being, but how do you get to that Ocean of Being? It is thrilling to hear that he who knows the Immortal Being becomes himself immortal. But how will we accomplish that immortalizing knowing?
There must come a time when we leave the advertising aside and get busy
obtaining the product.
And that is when Yoga begins, for Yogananda often said: “Yoga is the beginning of the end.”
Further reading:
Tags: Meditation · The Mind
December 25th, 2009
Part 5 of Swami Nirmalananda’s commentary on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.
In the last sutra Patanjali outlined the five basic vrittis: right knowledge, wrong knowledge, fancy, sleep, and memory. Now each modification is explained further.
Sutra 1:7. [Facts of] right knowledge [are based on] direct cognition, inference, or testimony.
Pramana has three bases: direct perception, inference, and what Jnaneshwara calls “testimony or verbal communication from others who have knowledge.” All commentators say that this latter includes scriptural texts. Nevertheless, the first listed by Patanjali is pratyaksha–personal perception. This quite logical in a text on yoga, for the purpose of yoga is the gaining of direct knowledge that is “nearer than knowing, open vision direct and instant” (Bhagavad Gita 9:1). Next he lists logical inference (anumana)–either our own or another’s. Last comes scriptural testimony. So we see a hierarchy of values. Most valued is our personal insight, next is our logical thought or that of someone we are communicating with, and last is the written text. This is because a living process is always more valuable, and also because the written text may be defective in some way. So scriptures come last–a feature unique to Sanatana Dharma.
Sutra 1:8. Wrong knowledge is a false conception of a thing whose real form does not correspond to such a mistaken conception.
We all have experience of mistaken perception. Sometimes in a boat it looks and feels as if the shore is moving and the boat is standing still. Those of us who have ridden a train very much will recall feeling absolutely that the train we were sitting in was moving, only to find out that it was the train next to us that moved. We often “see wrong.” For example, I had a cousin that did not look like me at all. Yet, my friends would see him on the street and call out or start speaking to him–and the same would happen to me with his friends.
When as a child I went to the movies I would experience three things that really disturbed me at the time. First, when the sound came on I could clearly perceive that it came from speakers on two sides of the theater, yet after a short while the sound would not only seem to be coming from the screen, it would seem to come from the mouths of the actors! Second, in motion pictures where carriage or wagon wheels were shown, at certain speeds the spokes would appear to reverse their direction and be moving backwards. Third, if I had seen a movie or a feature before, when I saw it again it seemed to last only about half the time it had the first time. So I realized that sound, sight, and time sense could be altered and not be “real.” After a while I came to understand that most of my experience was viparyaya in some form.
The only remedy for viparyaya is to experience things as they really are. And that is one of the purposes of yoga. In fact, Shankara said that “inhibition of illusion must precede that of the others, since it is their root.”
Sutra 1:9. An image conjured up by words without any substance behind it is fancy [vikalpa].
Here “words” can mean internal thought as well external speaking–either by ourselves or by others. We all experience having a mixture of both right and wrong ideas about something; that is viparyaya as in the previous verse. But Vikalpa is completely without basis or substance. Shankara is fond of using the simile of the horns of a rabbit, since such things just do not exist. Interestingly, some time before I became a yogi I read a psychological study by a man who knew of a culture somewhere in the western hemisphere where the people all believe that rabbits have horns. He even went “rabbit watching” with them and was amazed that they all swore fervently to him that the rabbits he was seeing without horns really did have horns–they could see them.
Here we see the danger of lying. In time our minds will habitually function in vikalpa and we will be lying to ourselves. A hallucination is a form of vikalpa, as well. I knew a very skillful liar who occasionally had hallucinations so strong that those around him had to go along with it to keep him from going completely over the edge. One time he kept seeing flowers in the air and demanding of me what their “message” was. It was taxing on many levels, believe me. The only good thing was that when the hallucinations ended he would not remember having them, so when it was over it was over.
Sutra 1:10. That modification of the mind which is based on the absence of any content in it is sleep.
As already pointed out, in the Yoga Sutras nidra refers to dreamless sleep alone, the state in which there is “nothing” in the field of the mind to perceive. Why the term sushupti which specifically means dreamless sleep is not being used is hard to understand. Shankara says that in this verse nidra definitely does mean sushupti. However it may be, dreaming must be considered by Patanjali to be a form of vikalpa rather than true sleep.
Even though dreamless sleep is “absence of any content” it is not a void, for we remember it. Certainly we perceive it, as Shankara says: “Unless there had been a perception, there could hardly be a recollection. And when one wakes, one does recall, ‘I have slept well’ and so on. The recollection itself is a reflection of the perception that I have experienced something; unless there had been some experience, that reflection would not be there, nor could there reasonably be any memories about it.”
Dreamless sleep is often cited as proof of the witness-Self, for although there is no object of perception, yet something perceives this non-perception. And that something is the spirit whose very nature is consciousness–turiya, the fourth, eternal state of awareness. “Again, a man who has been asleep in an inner room, without any hint from outside however slight, has recollected immediately on waking ‘I have slept a long time,’ and this would otherwise be inexplicable.”
Sutra 1:11. Memory [smriti] is not allowing an object which has been experienced to escape.
Memory is both passive and active–sometimes memories arise without our intending them to, and at other times we intentionally bring them out from our inner mind, usually for a specific purpose. Vyasa says that we are evoking a samskara, an impression always present in the mind. Shankara says: “The perception arises, and then while dying away lays down a samskara in its possessor, the thinker. The samskara corresponds to its cause.”
Memory, of course, includes both intellectual and sensory recall. Patanjali, though, is interested only in the active act of will that is memory.
Tags: Meditation · The Mind · Yoga Sutras
December 16th, 2009
Part 4 in the Commentary on Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, by Swami Nirmalananda Giri
Sutra 1:5. The modifications [vritti] of the mind are five-fold and are painful [klishta] or not painful [aklishta].
The five types of modification will be listed in the next verse, but right now Patanjali wants us to know that they all can be painful or not painful.
However, there is a whole other way of looking at these modifications, and that is held by both Vyasa and Shankara. It interprets klishta and aklishta as “tainted by the kleshas” and “untainted by the kleshas.” The kleshas are: ignorance, egotism, attractions and repulsions towards objects, and desperate clinging to physical life from the fear of death. They will be considered in detail in verses two through nine of the second section of the Yoga Sutras. So the modifications of the chitta can be either tainted (impure) or untainted (pure). Obviously this is going to determine their effect on us.
Vyasa says this: “The tainted [modifications] are caused by the five kleshas; they become the seed-bed for the growth of the accumulated karma seed-stock. The others are pure and are the field of Knowledge. They oppose involvement in the gunas. They remain pure even if they occur in a stream of tainted ones. In gaps between tainted ones, there are pure ones; in gaps between pure ones, tainted ones. It is only by mental processes that samskaras corresponding to them are produced, and by samskaras are produced new mental processes. Thus the wheel of mental process and samskara revolves. Such is the mind. But when it gives up its involvement, it abides in the likeness of the Self.” Commenting on Vyasa’s comment, Shankara says: “Ignorance and the other taints become the seed-bed for tainted mental processes. When these last appear, the karma seed-stock is near to ripening.”
Shankara relates this situation to yoga practice, saying: “Only by recourse to practice and detachment, which oppose them en bloc, does inhibition succeed; their mere number does not make inhibition impossible, though there is no effective means of inhibiting them one by one.” This is very important, because one of the tricks of the mind is to tell us that we need to “work up” to the right state or tackle our defects only one-by-one. But those who accept this wrong way of going about clearing our lives and consciousness end up failing completely–as was the ego’s intention when it suggested it so “reasonably.” Rather, Shankara tells us that yoga practice assaults the whole bundle of mental illusions at once, just as one army attacks another army en masse, not just soldier by soldier. This is heartening news, for it assures us that yoga acts as a general antidote to the poison of the kleshas, like a wide-spectrum antibiotic attacks all forms of infection at once.
Sutra 1:6. [The five kinds of modifications are] right knowledge [pramana], wrong knowledge [viparyaya], fancy [vikalpa], sleep [nidra], and memory [smritaya].
Each of these merits an individual consideration.
- Pramana includes the means of valid knowledge, logical proof, and the means of right perception. Although logical proof is listed here, it is usually held that pramana also includes experiential proof such as proven intuition or yogic perception that has been investigated and shown to be accurate. Although Taimni and most translators render this “right knowledge,” it is actually the means to right knowledge.
- Viparyaya is erroneous peception, wrong knowledge, illusion, misapprehension, and distraction of mind–the means to wrong knowledge. In Sankhya philosophy, the basis of Yoga, it is said that viparyaya is caused by ignorance (avidya), egoism (asmita), attachment (raga), antipathy (dwesha), and self-love in the sense of clinging to life (abhinivesha).
- Vikalpa is imagination, fantasy, mental construct, abstraction, conceptualization, hallucination, distinction, experience, thought, and oscillation of the mind.
- Nidra is sleep–either dreaming or dreamless–but in the Yoga Sutras it means dreamless sleep alone.
- Smriti is memory and recollection.
All mental phenomena fall into one of these classifications. It is interesting to see that just as there are five senses, so there are five modifications of the mind.
Next: Patanjali looks at each modification in turn.
Previously: Being Established in Our Own Inner Nature–Or Not
Tags: Meditation · The Mind · Yoga Sutras
November 8th, 2009
From the first time I ever heard it until today, “everybody does it” seems to me one of the most moronic and irrelevant–not to say almost always untrue–things anyone can say, especially if it is meant to justify some thought or action. So when I came across a similar section to this in one of the Pali sutras, I commented to other members of our ashram that it might be good to recite it every day to remind us that running with the herd is not an option for those seeking higher consciousness.
Without hatred
Happy indeed we live who are free from hatred among those who still hate. In the midst of hate-filled men, we live free from hatred” (Dhammapada 197). Thanissaro Bhikkhu: “How very happily we live, free from hostility among those who are hostile. Among hostile people, free from hostility we dwell.”
The world seems to run on hate and anger–all we need do is look at history and see that humanity is a bundle of conflicts. That is the way things are, and we should accept it but not approve of it. Rather than waiting for a “better day” when hatred will be abolished–something that absolutely will never happen–we should determine to live ourselves without hatred or hostility, even when encountering those who do hate, and who may hate us for not hating.
It is foolish to wait for “everyone to do it” before doing it ourselves. Waiting for a more congenial time or environment to practice virtue is a great folly. After all, it may be our friendliness (metta) and peaceful response to others that will help them be the same. But do notice that Buddha does not say that we shall attempt to change others and get them not to hate, for they have to put forth their own will to change themselves, just as we are doing.
The principle set forth in this verse applies as well to the ultimate activity of hatred: war. Rather than engaging in futile “peace efforts” that are usually embittered and violent–not to speak of being impractical and unreasonable–we must settle our hearts in peace. I have met many good men and women of peace who were saddened at the prevalence of war, and who strove to live lives of peace themselves. But I have met no “peaceniks” that were not narrow, hateful, and devoid of peace in mind and heart, and politically uninformed and bigoted. Blaming others for war, they did not see that they were contributing to the universal vibrations of anger and spite.
Fundamentally, this and subsequent verses teach us that each person must determine to follow the path of right thought and action and let others alone. Over a hundred years ago a wise man wrote an article on spiritual life entitled: Others May, You Cannot. That is a good rule to remember.
Inwardly healthy
“Happy indeed we live who are free from disease among those still diseased. In the midst of diseased men, we live free from disease” (Dhammapada 198). Thanissaro Bhikkhu: “How very happily we live, free from misery among those who are miserable. Among miserable people, free from misery we dwell.”
Narada Thera comments that the disease spoken of here is “the disease of passions.” It is strange but true that a great many people continually stir themselves up, deliberately choosing to live is a state of constant ferment, upset, and misery. Oftentimes this is because nothing else goes on in their life. Many neighborhoods have their local grouch whose only purpose in life is complaining and making trouble for others. This often includes complaints to the police and other authorities for petty “crimes” on behalf of others, especially regarding parking in front of their property. Children and adults are equal targets for their frustration and malice.
When growing up I knew three of these bitter people, all of whom were old, ill, and without family or friends. Their ways were inexplicable. But one of them came out differently. She had done some nasty, spiteful thing to an aunt of mine, and her son retaliated with some prank. The old lady did not know who did it, but my cousin began to feel really bad about what he had done. So he went to her house and apologized and asked her forgiveness. The poor woman nearly passed out in shock, since for years everyone had despised her. She was so moved she hugged and kissed him and apologized for being such a grouch. The result was she became friends with my aunt’s family and soon was friends will all the neighbors. This is the power of goodness, even if belated.
Living amongst the passion-ridden, we can be passion-free and at peace.
Without worry
“Happy indeed we live who are free from worry among those who are still worried. In the midst of worried men, we live free from worry” (Dhammapada 199).
This must be an ambiguous verse in the Pali original, for Harischandra Kaviratna renders it: “Blessed indeed are we who live among those who are yearning for sense delights, without yearning for such things; amidst those who are yearning for sense delights, let us dwell without yearning.” Narada Thera agrees in his translation, but Thanissaro Bhikkhu has it: “How very happily we live, free from busyness among those who are busy. Among busy people, free from busyness we dwell.”
Whichever it is, we can profitably resolve to put away, worry, desire, and obsession with externals from our minds and live at rest in our hearts.
Happy with nothing
“Happy indeed we live who have nothing of our own. We shall feed on joy, just like the radiant devas” (Dhammapada 200).
This can be followed in two ways. The first is the obvious one of living in blessed simplicity without the burden of many things. A friend of mine used to take stock of everything in her house about every six months, and get rid of everything she did not really need. She had realized that the habit of possession creeps up on all of us, and each time she made her inventory, sure enough her own weakness had begun tripping her up.
The second way is to live happily in the realization that absolutely nothing is ever really ours, that everything, including our body, eventually dissolves away. And besides, it is all just a dream which must end in time. This is the key to really enjoying things, for they are not hanging around our necks demanding that we look after them, guard them, protect them, and identify with them. To be possessed by possessions is misery, but freedom from them is the happiness of the gods.
More practical wisdom from the Buddha:
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Tags: Teachings of Buddha · The Mind