Sadhana The Realisation of Life

in this life he can apprehend God; if n

sified and kept among our possessions, to be used as an ally specially favouring us in our politics, warfare, money-making, or in social competi

is continual adding to our stores. In fact, when the soul seeks God she seeks her final escape from this incessant gathering and heaping and never coming to an end. It is not an additional object the she seeks, but it is the nityo 'nityānām, the p

am yat kincha jagatyānjagat.] Enjoy whatever is given by him and harbour not in your mind the gre

nd the giver in the gifts. Then you know that all the facts of the reality have their only meaning in the manifestation of the one trut

thing in preference to another, in one place instead of somewhere else. We do not have to run to the grocer's shop for

else to take its place more positively perfect and satisfying, then such admonition would be absolutely unmeaning. No man can se

but the daily process of surrendering ourselves, removing all obstacles to union an

It must be the aim of the whole of our life. In all our thoughts and deeds we must be conscious of the infinite. Let the realisation of this truth become easier every day of our life, that none could live or mo

e dead satellite of the earth, have but little atmosphere around them. When we take food and satisfy our hunger it is a complete act of possession. So long as the hunger is not satisfied it is a pleasure to eat. For then our enjoyment of eating touches at every point the infinite. But, when it attains completion, or in other words, when our desire for eating reaches the end of the stage of its non-realisation, it reaches t

but it is indefinite, and the most fleeting of our enjoyments are but the momentary touches of the eternal. The tragedy of human life consists in our vain

nd all our possessions. Surrounded by things she can touch and feel, sh

that we are greater than the things we possess. It is a perfect misery to be kept bound up with things lesser than ourselves. This it is that Maitreyī felt when her husband gave her his property on the eve of leaving home. She asked him, "Would these material things help one to attain the highest?"-or, in other words, "Are they more than my soul to me?" When her husband answered, "They will make you rich in wo

ery beat of its wings that the sky is boundless, that its wings can never carry it beyond. Therein lies its joy. In the cage the sky is limited; it may be quite enough for all the purposes of the bird's life, onl

ery moment that in the sense of not being able to come to the

has, not expecting his life. His existence is miserable and sordid till he finds some great idea which can truly claim his all, which can release him from all attachment to his belongings. Buddha and Jesus, and all our great prophets, represent such great idea

most awful hell that man can imagine. In his to be he is infinite, there is his heaven, his deliverance. His is is occupied every moment with what it

ut searching for food to live, clothing to get warmth. In this region-the region of nature-i

nly to the extent of its emptiness. Our relation to food is only in feeding, our relation to a house is only in habitation. We call it a benefit when a thing is fitted

tion is not to get but to be. To be what? To be one with Brahma. For the region of the infinite is the region of unity. Therefore the Upanishads say: If man apprehen

ver been reconciled to this idea of our unity with the infinite being. It condemns, as a piece of blasphemy, any implication of man's becoming God. This is certa

n of nature, which is the region of diversity, we grow by acquisition; in the spiritual world, which is the region of unity, we grow by losing ourselves, by uniting. Gaining a thing, as we have said, is by its nature partial, i

meaningless if we never can expect to realise the highest perfection that th

e the difference is obvious. Call it illusion or ignorance, or whatever name you may give it, it is

rue, ever to become Brahma. There is the eternal play of love in the relation between this being and the becoming;

ther alternative. On both sides of its banks it has numerous fields and forests, villages and towns; it can serve them in various ways, cleanse them and feed them, carry their pro

h the great motionless water of the ocean. It moves through the thousand objects

has encircled some broad sheet of water and pretends that she has made the sea a part of herself, we at once know

e Brahma and move beyond him. Once our soul realises her ultimate object of repose in Brahma, all her movements acquire a purpose. It is this ocean of infinite rest which gives signif

of the whole. But if the poem goes on interminably, never expressing the idea of the whole, only throwing off disconnected images, however beautiful, it becomes wearisome and unprofitable in the extreme. The progress of our soul is like a perfect poem. It has an infinite idea which

who only counts the breathless activities of the world, but cannot see the infinite repose of the perfection whence these activities are gaining their equilibrium every moment in absolute fitness and harmony. We lose all joy in thus contemplating existence, because we miss the truth. We see the gesticulations of the dancer, and we imagi

g into Brahma, that all her movements should be modulated by this ultimate idea, and

saying in the Upanis

hat I know him, or ev

anye suvedeti no n

But if he is altogether beyond our reach, then he is absolutely

ed, as well as the mind, but he who knows him by the joy of him is free from all fears. [Footn

s information about things which can be divided and analysed, and whose properties can be classified

ole being. Intellect sets us apart from the things to be known, but love knows its object by fusion. S

be known by our soul, by her joy in him, by her love. Or, in other words, we can only come into relation

rfection. We cannot grow more and more into Brahma. He is

bsolute completion. We cannot think of it as non-existent and depending on our limited powers for its gradual construction. If ou

man, the supreme soul, is already complete. Therefore the Upanishads say: He who knows Brahman, the true, the all-conscious, and the infinite as hidden in the depths of the soul, which is the supreme sky (the inner

note: Eshāsya paramo lokah] "this This is the supreme joy of the other this." [Footnote: Eshāsya parama ānandah] Because the marriage of supreme love has been accomplished in timeless time. And now goes on the endless līlā, the play of love. He who has been gained in eternity is now being pursued in time and space, in joys and sorrows, in this world and in the worlds beyond. When the soul-bride understands this well, her heart is blissful and at rest. She knows that she, like a river, has attained the ocean of her fulfilment at one end of her being, and at the other end she is ever attaining it; at one end it is eternal rest and completion, at the other it is incessant movement and change. When she knows both ends as inseparably connected, then

wn in the midst of the din of the crowd that had collected for a fes

e carter in India sings while driving his cart, "Take me across." The itiner

ing and toiling we do not come to the end, we do not attain our object. Like a child dissatisfied wit

lse than where we are? Is it to take rest from all our wo

e are crying for the across, even where we stand. So, while our lips

own, the other lies estranged; and missing the sense of that completeness which is in me, my heart incessant

ad me across." When this home of mine is made thine, that very moment is it taken across, even while its old walls enclose it. This "I" is restless. It is working for a gain which can never be assimilated with its spirit, which it never can hold and r

ransformed into thy work? If I leave my home I shall not reach thy home; if I cease my work I can never j

ross!" For here rolls the sea, and even here lies the other shore waiting to be