Inhibition of States of Mind

Inhibition of States of Mind

Two ways, and two ways only, there are of inhibiting these modes,

these ways of existence, of the mind. They were given by Sri

Krishna in the Bhagavad-Gita, when Arjuna complained that the

mind was impetuous, strong, difficult to bend, hard to curb as

the wind. His answer was definite: " Without doubt, O

mighty-armed, the mind is hard to curb and restless; but it may

be curbed by constant practice (abhyasa) and by dispassion

(vai-ragya)."[FN#9: loc. cit., VI. 35, 35]

These are the two methods, the only two methods, by which this

restless, storm-tossed mind can be reduced to peace and quietude.

Vai-ragya and abhyasa, they are the only two methods, but when

steadily practiced they inevitably bring about the result.

Let us consider what these two familiar words imply. Vai-ragya,

or dispassion, has as its main idea the clearing away of all

passion for, attraction to, the objects of the senses, the bonds

which are made by desire between man and the objects around him.

Raga is "passion, addiction," that which binds a man to things.

The prefix "vi"--changing to "vai" by a grammatical rule --means

"without," or "in opposition to". Hence vai-ragya is

"non-passion, absence of passion," not bound, tied or related to

any of these outside objects. Remembering that thinking is the

establishing of relations, we see that the getting rid of

relations will impose on the mind the stillness that is Yoga. All

raga must be entirely put aside. We must separate ourselves from

it. We must acquire the opposite condition, where every passion

is stilled, where no attraction for the objects of desire

remains, where all the bonds that unite the man to surrounding

objects are broken. "When the bonds of the heart are broken, then

the man becomes immortal."

How shall this dispassion be brought about? There is only one

right way of doing it. By slowly and gradually drawing ourselves

away from outer objects through the more potent attraction of the

Self. The Self is ever attracted to the Self. That attraction

alone can turn these vehicles away from the alluring and

repulsive objects that surround them; free from all raga, no more

establishing relations with objects, the separated Self finds

himself liberated and free, and union with the one Self becomes

the sole object of desire. But not instantly, by one supreme

effort, by one endeavour, can this great quality of dispassion

become the characteristic of the man bent on Yoga. He must

practice dispassion constantly and steadfastly. That is implied

in the word joined with dispassion, abhyasa or practice. The

practice must be constant, continual and unbroken. "Practice"

does not mean only meditation, though this is the sense in which

the word is generally used; it means the deliberate, unbroken

carrying out of dispassion in the very midst of the objects that

attract.

In order that you may acquire dispassion, you must practice it in

the everyday things of life. I have said that many confine

abhyasa to meditation. That is why so few people attain to Yoga.

Another error is to wait for some big opportunity. People prepare

themselves for some tremendous sacrifice and forget the little

things of everyday life, in which the mind is knitted to objects

by a myriad tiny threads. These things, by their pettiness, fail

to attract attention, and in waiting for the large thing, which

does not come, people lose the daily practice of dispassion

towards the little things that are around them. By curbing desire

at every moment, we become indifferent to all the objects that

surround us. Then, when the great opportunity comes, we seize it

while scarce aware that it is upon us. Every day, all day long,

practice--that is what is demanded from the aspirant to Yoga, for

only on that line can success come; and it is the wearisomeness

of this strenuous, continued endeavour that tires out the

majority of aspirants.

I must here warn you of a danger. There is a rough-and- ready way

of quickly bringing about dispassion. Some say to you: "Kill out

all love and affection; harden your hearts; become cold to all

around you; desert your wife and children, your father and

mother, and fly to the desert or the jungle; put a wall between

youself and all objects of desire; then dispassion will be

yours." It is true that it is comparatively easy to acquire

dispassion in that way. But by that you kill more than desire.

You put round the Self, who is love, a barrier through which he

is unable to pierce. You cramp yourself by encircling yourself

with a thick shell, and you cannot break through it. You harden

yourself where you ought to be softened; you isolate yourself

where you ought to be embracing others; you kill love and not

only desire, forgetting that love clings to the Self and seeks

the Self, while desire clings to the sheaths of the Self, the

bodies in which the Self is clothed. Love is the desire of the

separated Self for union with all other separated Selves.

Dispassion is the non-attraction to matter--a very different

thing. You must guard love--for it is the very Self of the Self.

In your anxiety to acquire dispassion do not kill out love. Love

is the life in everyone of us, separated Selves. It draws every

separated Self to the other Self. Each one of us is a part of one

mighty whole. Efface desire as regards the vehicles that clothe

the Self, but do not efface love as regards the Self, that

never-dying force which draws Self to Self. In this great

up-climbing, it is far better to suffer from love rather than to

reject it, and to harden your hearts against all ties and claims

of affection. Suffer for love, even though the suffering be

bitter. Love, even though the love be an avenue of pain. The pain

shall pass away, but the love shall continue to grow, and in the

unity of the Self you shall finally discover that love is the

great attracting force which makes all things one.

Many people, in trying to kill out love, only throw themselves

back, becoming less human, not superhuman; by their mistaken

attempts. It is by and through human ties of love and sympathy

that the Self unfolds. It is said of the Masters that They love

all humanity as a mother loves her firstborn son. Their love is

not love watered down to coolness, but love for all raised to the

heat of the highest particular loves of smaller souls. Always

mistrust the teacher who tells you to kill out love, to be

indifferent to human affections. That is the way which leads to

the left-hand path.