According to His Holiness, there are three principal 'ways' to self-realization: knowledge, devotion, action. Then there is the 'fourth way', which is the way of the householder. Sometimes Shantananda seems to favour the way of devotion, perhaps as the most direct of the three; at other times he expresses a distinct preference for the fourth way, as being less extreme and more natural than the others. The School is supposed to be for people on the fourth way, but at the same time it's clear that individuals will by their own nature be drawn to one or more of knowledge, devotion or action. All three must be accommodated.
That gives us a framework, a guiding principle. How do we measure up in practice?
My own theory - and as someone said, there's nothing so practical as a good theory - is that the School has a strong preference for the way of action. This will come as a surprise to many people - I think the general view is that the School has a predilection, if anything, for knowledge. But what I note is that the people who are most contented and at home in the School are, almost invariably, lovers of action.
Show me an entirely happy long-term School student, and I will show you a man of action. It's what we do well.
I recently listened to one of Shane Mulhall's CDs, in which he spoke at some length on the three types of people, with respect to career. According to Mr Mulhall, the devotional person is mainly interested in "relationships" - his example was a restaurateur who asks, "How was your food?", but who in reality doesn't care what sort of rubbish he serves. He's only interested in having a friendly relationship. According to Mr Mulhall, the intellectual person is not interested in people, or in being effective, but only in knowing. His example of this was a doctor 'who would be more interested in the disease than the patient'. Neither of these are, I think, people one would necessarily want to be. By contrast, his portrait of the man of action was fulsome and almost without negativity.
Now, Mr Mulhall is someone who normally sticks very closely to Shantananda's words, but here he veers dramatically away from the view presented in the Conversations. He's a thoroughly even-handed and clear-sighted individual, to judge by his lectures; and for this reason it's all the more surprising that on this topic he resembles a cyclops who's just been chopping onions. It appears that the preference for the way of action is tremendously strong in the School.
The rule holds true in almost every case. The man of action is happy in the School, because we love karma yoga - duties, action, physical work, vigour. The man of knowledge is a bit less happy, because when it comes to enquiry after truth we have a rather weaker tradition. We're not quite sure in the School whether we are really seeking truth, or whether we've already found it and, if it wasn't for that goldarned ahankara, then by golly we'd all be realised. Speaking as someone who has a bit of an affiliation to this way, I can assure you that we have a lot to learn about how to foster knowledge. We have cut "knowledge" down to our own size - a manageable size - instead of enlarging our minds. Even the phrase "practical philosophy" has a flavour of utilitarianism about it - as if the purpose of knowledge is to serve action. "Wisdom Works", according to one slogan. Does it? According to Plato, wisdom is the state of soul when it becomes unchanging. Not much work needed there.
But if you want to see someone who is really unhappy in the School, look at the man of devotion. If you hang around the School long enough you might think the word 'devoted' means 'loyal, faithful, always ready to make the tea ... maybe a bit thick, bless 'em'. In other words, the devotional person is someone who can't cut the mustard intellectually, but who is useful for practical tasks. According to this view, the purpose of devotion is to serve action. This is not devotion. In fact, it's just old-fashioned English class prejudice.
This explains why we're so bad, so throroughly and unspeakably bad, at meditation. Meditation takes you beyond doing, into being. Meditation is what the way of action knows nothing about. It is a devotional practice, and it develops the intellect by freeing us from attachment. It's really simple - at least if you're not trying to make it into something it's not. Meditation points one way; School tradition points the other. It's a wonder we've kept it going. Obviously someone up there likes us.
Fortunately, His Holiness is rather detailed in his remarks on this subject. According to him, devotion or love is the Royal Way, quicker and more direct than the others. The man of devotion has no time to attend a School or to do duties. He wakes up in the morning praising God, and there's really no need to get out of bed. He's already there. This has been ignored or rationalised away, with words such as "sentimental" or "idle".
But why take my word for it? I would recommend anyone who is interested in knowledge or devotion to read the Conversations - 1965 and 1967 for a start. But read them without your Old-School glasses on, if you can. You might find you can see more clearly.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
There is another way ... or maybe two
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9 comments:
Really interesting analysis, Kevin. As you suggest, we don't often consider the School to 'specialise' in the way of action.
One question though - if this really is an organisation that attracts people on the way of action, why does the action tend to be focused in and around the School? Apart from some honourable exceptions, I don't see that many people possessed of the confidence and drive to make a difference in the wider world, beyond the School environment.
If this is a fair comment, a further question arises: does it matter?
Good questions.
In part, of course, the focus on service in and of the School is because of the need to staff the organization. This is a problem, though, because if we stop there the actions are not very useful.
But following the way of action doesn't necessarily mean that you're a master of the universe, just as following knowledge doesn't make you a genius, and following love doesn't make you a saint. It's a "way" and if you stop and have a picnic for 10 years on the verge, you're still on that way and not another.
By "does it matter?" I presume you mean, "does it matter that we follow the way of action, given that we don't do it very effectively?" If I am picking you up right, I think it does matter. If people are active types, then they should do it well. That is their route to realisation.
My main point would be that self-realisation is in part about recognising what is in one's own nature, so that you know which way to follow.
Meditation is just fine so long as one stops thinking about it and badgering it and worrying.
In that sense it has a broader application to spiritual work than just practising the mantra.
Meditation means switching off the way of action and keeping still, and it also means switching off the way of knowledge and keeping that side still as well.
Then it's beautiful.
Could it also mean switching off the way of devotion?
People do tend to meditate in their heads, and if they move to the heart, as it were, that helps them.
Still, it seems that beyond the heart (pashyanti) there's something deeper, the paraa.
This is rather speculative, but even if the way of devotion seems the closest to meditation, it's not the same thing.
One thought that has arisen recently about what the "way of devotion" actually is:
Emotions like anger and desire have a great force behind them. Emotion itself is a great force. To turn this great force towards seeking the Absolute is not a sentimental thing, it can be quite possibly the most difficult thing I can thing of (at other times it is effortlessley natural). We belittle and trivialise the path of devotion by confusing it with idol worship, "belief" and what has been illustrated in the other examples given.
The devotee wants to meet the beloved in everyone and everything. This means utter surrender of any separation. I expect most that are dismissive of devotion are in reality afraid of it. The rationalisations arise to keep it at a safe distance.
Just a follow on thought. If we take the example of anger, clearly the scripture advises against anger and I would not disagree. But the question still arises as to how best to deal with this thing? The experience here is that if the anger is withheld then I suppress my whole life-force. The energy must be "channelled", not repressed. I once read/heard(?) a psychologist say something like, "If you can be assertive, there is no need to get angry". I find this a more useful analysis. The energy arises and can be channelled correctly rather than repressed. But I reiterate - I find this no trivial task. Don't know about anyone else? But what I'm trying to get at is: does something need to be "freed up" emotionally before we can understand devotion?
It's an interesting question that you raise, which I find is best answered by recourse to emotion as well as 'reason'. I did write 'rather than reason' at first, but this would only allow highly regrettable, violent actions.
So reason can keep you and others out of danger but is quite hopeless at dealing with a towering inferno, other than by acting as policeman.
From my own experience, I can redirect anger - use its unlocked energy - to do all manner of unpalatable tasks requiring base energy (like clearing out the cupboard under the stairs, or digging). It's no good for other unwelcome tasks, like tax returns, where a clear head and calmed emotions are essential.
If it's sat on, anger quickly turns to depression (tamas). Minor angers - well, you can just distract yourself with something pleasing and the next time you look they're gone.
But for murderous anger - well, that's different. Reason can just about put a lid on it - you can tell yourself it won't last for ever, and you can tell yourself - and be believed - not to do or say anything that will stoke the flames or leave an imprint for the future.
But you're still left with the inferno.
Hearing others speak about anger, or grief, or jealousy - I'm always admiring of how rational they sound, or maybe that's just 'emotion recollected in tranquillity'? My most recent experience of profound anguish - not so long ago - was extraordinarily reviving!
It was a scourge and very painful. But it also released an extraordinary spirituality. That became all-important, nothing else mattered, and although it faded it led to my returning to the School.
So - for me at any rate - if one is 'blessed' in this way, accept it, almost embrace it.
Hi Kapila
I think Laura's comments are helpful here.
Also I would point to the 8 steps of the Gita: thinking of objects; attachment; desire; anger; etc down to utter ruination. What happens when you get really angry is that you're already at half way to ruination. The seeds of the anger are in the original error - thinking of objects, ie believing oneself to be separate from what one perceives.
A student told me how she was enjoying the lovely view out of her window, and suddenly a workman appeared, bolting a Sky dish onto the front of her neighbour's house. She exploded, and then felt terrible all day.
What this showed was that although she thought she was free and at peace, she was in fact attached to the view, and saw it as part of her happiness.
So the anger is good, in a way, if one learns the humbling lesson of what it is saying about your real state.
As for channeling the energy, I think it can be refined into a creative response. EG in this case - speaking to the neighbour, who was just obeying the workmen's desire to get the job done quickly. Just because you're angry about something doesn't mean you shouldn't do something about it.
As for freeing up ... HH says "speak from the pure impulses of the heart, and act on your words".
What you say is quite correct, Kevin, it's all down to attachment in the end. If there isn't attachment to an individual there isn't jealousy, to a view of a roof there isn't anger, to a sentiment there isn't grief. That's the work that needs to be done.
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