Be Who You Are Read online

  This is the fundamental distinction between idolatry and religion. The surrender to an object, the merging with an object, are comparatively easy. Nothing is easier than to discover a somewhat beautiful, good and powerful thing and to have a marvellous sense of exaltation by giving oneself over to it. Idolaters taste deep joy as long as they do not overstep the limitations of their idol, as long as the idol does not crumble of itself. Napoleon’s soldiers, the Grognards, knew perfect joy until the day of Waterloo. The only drawback to idolatry is the disproportion between the finite and the infinite. Man’s desire for happiness is infinite and that is why no object – that is to say, no finite reality – can fill it. All idolatry is therefore either illusion or failure.

  I have often heard it said that without the help of Yoga, metaphysical realization can be very difficult. What do you think about it?

  To begin with Yoga is a harmonization of the body, to prevent it from being an impediment to spiritual research. It is also a set of techniques tending to the ending of all mental activity. It is a method of voluntary effort and systematic purification, leading to a state of mental stillness (Samadhi).

  Samadhi can be experienced as bliss or emptiness. In the case of bliss, it remains in the world of duality. In the case of emptiness, it is the last stage in duality, but it does not throw it off. The emptiness of Samadhi takes place when the object has reached its ultimate simplification. One might say that it is pure object, without any qualification whatsoever, an object which is object and nothing else. This is why it is a barrier, the last barrier, to realization. Sooner or later, Samadhi experienced as emptiness, will reveal its duality and the longing for unity will appear.

  This meeting with emptiness is something absolutely new; and it may easily be mistaken for realization. Then there occurs a tendency to settle in this emptiness which one has learnt to produce. It is comforting to pacify the ego and to taste this emptiness. But one should not mistake the taste of a silent mind with the experience of which I am speaking. This taste is still an object, it has to be abandoned, the last step has to be taken, for the Yogi who does not awaken to the Experience, is in a situation which, from a certain point of view, may be considered worse than that of the ordinary man. Indeed, when he returns from the state of Samadhi to find those usual objects which had been temporarily eliminated by a voluntary technique, he runs the risk of rediscovering them with an increased virulence.

  Samadhi experienced as joy is in fact a state in which one enters and from which one emerges. Sooner or later its insufficiency is felt. The man who leaves this joy, falls back in to the world of objects. He has no precise memory of his experience which, since it belongs to a supra-mental reality, can leave no mental trace (memory), but nevertheless he remains in a state of shock, of exaltation, of longing which is a source of confusion. Such is the result of the Yogic path.

  In the direct path we, by discrimination, come to the conviction that ultimate reality lies beyond any physical or mental framework. As a sideline, we make use of Yoga to loosen certain knots, or do away with certain disturbances. But we never lose sight of the non-dual background. Liberation is not reached by subservience to certain more or less strict rules, but by knowledge which wipes out time, space, cause-and-effect. A return to ignorance is now excluded.

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  The everlasting present is completely unrelated to time and space. Therefore it has no link with the past, the future or any given place. In its very essence, it is reality, “hic et nunc” (here and now). Since this reality lies outside any mental framework, it cannot be expressed, communicated or known by any means but by pure experience alone. From this background, thought, and with it the world of multiplicity, arises and then back to it returns. When the mind is in any way active, this background is consciousness as witness, absolutely non-involved. When mental activity ceases, it is pure objectless consciousness. This background is our true nature and can only be revealed spontaneously, i.e., in an attitude devoid of any striving, of any premeditation, any intention. This reality, being formless, escapes any qualification whatsoever. However, the traditional words peace and bliss are nearest to expressing it.

  This background can be perceived in each interval that occurs between two thoughts or two perceptions. In such intervals one may come upon the timeless moment, in other words, the eternal present. But this is hindered by our belief that what has no form is unreal. Whenever we encounter this perception of the formless we mistake it for a blank or absence which in its turn creates a feeling of uneasiness. This discomfort (the fear of the void) urges us to search for another thought or perception which will fill the dreaded void.

  This void terrifies us because it denies being. As long as we are unable to conceive being in any aspect other than form, the presence of the formless (the background) gives us a false impression of emptiness which we immediately strive to fill with forms (objects).

  In this way we by-pass a marvellous chance of being. Let us observe for example the way a nervous or anxious man breathes. Such a man does not venture to breathe out fully, he does not dare to empty his lungs and remain at peace until the moment when the in-breathing phase comes of itself. This is a symptom of deep fear and anxiety. When the lungs are empty an anxious man is in dread of the void, and he gives himself over to the movement of breathing in so as to recover his habitual feeling of life and a state of passing relief.

  But in the case of a healthy man, that is a man who is perfectly harmonised, in agreement with himself and the cosmos, breathing has a metaphysical significance, it is the symbol of the rhythm of exchange between the individual and his principle. Each breathing out expresses an entire surrendering of the creature to God and each inspiration signifies the return of the divine influx.

  Between the two moments, at the moment when the lungs are empty, the unmanifested divine is approached. Thus we can see how fear hinders us from being and experiencing the formless.

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  As did the philosophers in Classical times, so do the Sages of traditional India continue to use today the dialogue form to impart true knowledge.

  If it is to bear its fruit, such a dialogue requires a particular type of listening. That is, an effortless attention devoid of any strain, which reveals the deepest recess of the listener’s being. It is indeed most important to listen not only to the teacher but also to everything which surges up from the depths of one’s inner self. Through such an attitude we are spontaneously led, without conflict, to a state where we are receptive to essential knowledge. Then arise those true questions which are the props and the starting points of the search. This search proceeds by the reduction and the elimination of questions. These become more and more inadequate until the moment when the disciple sees that perfect understanding can only be reached by the absence of questions, by silence. This silence has in itself a taste of peace and bliss. It is not emptiness, it is not ignorance, it is fullness and complete knowledge.

  Any knowledge, except knowledge of the Self, is knowledge of an object. Thus the Self can only be known non-dually. Following such knowledge, the Self is revealed as pure objectless consciousness of pure bliss.

  We live in a world of objects which are forever changing. Even our mind is in a state of perpetual change. We have an impression of universal becoming. This is because we have completely forgotten that the Self (the supreme subject) underlies the ego and the world of which it is an unmoving motive power and the ultimate knower. Sadhana is nothing else but a return to the consciousness of the unmovable and blissful Self which is the root of ourselves and all objects. This losing sight of the consciousness of the Self is described in the Vedantic tradition as a process of identification with objects. It is a kind of forgetfulness, of fascination, of attraction. The myth of Narcissus is a perfect llustration of this fall into the object, the seeming absorption of the Self into the wave of Samsara. From this moment onwards, the Self has forgotten itself, paradise is lost and an ego arises, an ego which says: “I do this, I suffe
r, I think”. By virtue of this identification, what is impersonal becomes mistakenly personal. The search for happiness becomes a desperate search, for the ego – having lost its consciousness of the Self, of perfect bliss – now seeks happiness in finite and passing objects. Sooner or later however, the ego will be impelled to see the impossibility of finding true happiness in objects and in separate beings, thus verifying Schopenhauer’s statement according to which “Life is a battle undertaken in the certainty of being beaten”.

  If one is to extricate oneself from this predicament, one must distinguish the real from the unreal. In all our daily activities, we have the feeling of being an active agent. This feeling is both true and illusory. I can say that I am truly an agent in all my actions, in so far as I am the supreme subject, the Self. I begin to go wrong from the moment when I grasp myself as being an active subject. Since the only true active subject is the immovab1e Self, it cannot be apprehended by the mind.

  It can be known solely as a non-objective principle beyond the mind. This is why all our efforts to apprehend the subject intellectually, necessarily lead to the illusion of a mind-body ego, author of these actions. Nevertheless this mind-body is not a real agent: it is only an instrument of the manifesting Self, the only true subject, the only true agent. The ego’s mistake arises at the moment when I forget that any activity of the mind-body is that of an instrument. This error is the confusion between instrument and agent. It is in some way the agent which loses itself in the instrument.

  Liberation is reached when I understand that the me seen as a mind-body is not the subject-agent, but the real subject-agent is the I, the Self, the pure subject.

  By going over this theme as often as possible, I gradually loosen the me, the mind-body, a mere instrument. This loosening allows the Self to awaken to its own substance.

  Question

  As you have just said, the error that lies at the root of our human tragedy which places bliss in the object, is so strong that we do not know how to attain this discrimination, this objectless joy which you describe in your study “From Desire to Joy without an Object”. How can we go beyond this conditioning?

  Answer

  First of all, it is important to realize that what we are really after is a perfectly stable state which at the same time would be joy, peace and supreme security. Unfortunately, life gives us no promise of stability and the joy given by a desired object is always a fleeting one.

  What is the exact relationship between a fleeting joy and the objects which give it? At first sight, it seems to be a relationship of cause and effect, or of container and contained, but experience shows us that the same object can at different moments produce joy, disgust or complete indifference. This goes to prove that it does not produce joy, it merely triggers it off.

  When the coveted object is finally possessed, we find ourselves in a state of non-desire and joy is nothing else but the attainment of such a state. When joy is perfect and non-desire is complete, the object vanishes. Only joy remains. For the ego it is a stopping point.

  Thus the object is in no way necessary for this arrest in desire. Wisdom (i.e. the science of happiness) is nothing else but the know-how of “stopping”. Thus an objectless stilling of desire is achieved, and thereby arises perfect joy.

  This perfect joy which we sought in objects is revealed as being the basis of being. The understanding of this truth may be considered as the basis of realization.

  Is the way you indicate not too arid, too bleak? Do you not think that emotion which in certain doctrines is considered as an agent of discovery may be of great help?

  As long as man is an ego, he faces every situation from the point of view “I like” – ”I don’t like”. Due to this, he is plunged into emotionalism and the ability to see things as they are is impossible for him. Discrimination, which is the only decisive factor in knowledge, is completely impervious to emotionalism. In no case can emotion further an approach to authentic knowledge.

  Emotion is Rajas. According to the Hindu doctrine, the last phase before liberation is Sattva. Sattva is serenity, truth and light. A sattvic atmosphere is the necessary condition of any authentic discrimination. He who is impersonal, egoless, has decisively left the emotional plane behind. Such is the state of perfect freedom. He no longer approaches things from the point of view “Pleasant-unpleasant”; he deals with situations without the intervention of any personal choice. He therefore lives the present situation as it occurs, with perfect simplicity and adequacy. Thus he never comes up against what the ordinary man calls suffering. This change of axis from an emotional attitude to an impersonal one is never the result of an effort. It is the consequence of discrimination alone which allows us to grasp the difference.

  Are there stages in this realization?

  There are stages in elimination, but none in realization. Realization is nothing other than that reality which lies beyond becoming and which for this reason is completely outside the framework of time, space, cause and effect.

  If one is to go beyond time, space and cause, it is impossible to make use of time, space and cause. Therefore, in true realization there is no stage, no motivation.

  Realization is of its own nature, instantaneous, abrupt, everlasting. If a cause is used as a prop, one will be led to another cause. Having covered a distance, one finds oneself before another one and the same is true of Time. No process of becoming can help us to quit becoming. What is everlasting does not ripen in Time.

  In the course of this search, does the Self make itself felt by a force which is usually called Grace?

  When the impersonal outlook has been revealed to you, the Self is like a magnet and a light which attracts and guides. Everything which issues from the Self is pure Grace, that is, it is neither a result, nor a compensation and above all, not a reward. Nevertheless this Grace should not be conceived of in the Jewish-Christian spirit as an arbitrary choice. The Self does not choose. It shines like the sun for any eyes that are open and turned towards it.

  May one speak of an appeal from the Self?

  Yes, but such an appeal must be understood in a very special sense. It may be said that the Self is an appeal in so far as it is a presence, and it is up to us to be aware of its radiance. Our answer to this appeal places us in a perspective where everything is turned upside down.

  If all is turned upside down has not life lost all its flavour? How is one to find the strength to accept life?

  This change is something of a paradox. In one sense, one might say that things have lost their flavour, but at the same time they have recovered their true flavour hitherto unsuspected. Such words as “to accept” or “to bear” life no longer have any meaning, because the old categories of good and evil, pleasant and unpleasant, have completely vanished, giving place to an unique flavour, the flavour of the Divine, the revelation of that Ananda which was hitherto hidden by the nama-rupa (names, forms and separate objects).

  Thus the meaning of the dying words of Bernanos’ Curé de Campagne “Everything is Grace”, springs to life.

  I sometimes go through moments when I feel completely engulfed in an accumulation of contradictory thoughts, their mass overwhelms me and I get the impression of being unable to reach a state of peace. I am overwhelmed to such an extent that I feel carried away by a flood and I cannot extricate myself. Of course, time passes, days go by, I am once more steady and a state of detachment is re-established. But there are unbearable moments. What can be done during such moments?

  Your complaint is one of the characteristic curses of our modern world. Modern man is a creature whose digestive tract and mind are practically always overcrowded. (There is a strong link between these two types of overcrowding.) The first thing to do is to relieve the mind and abstain from treating it like a garbage can into which are poured all the residues of radio, television, the daily press and detective novels.

  The second is not to treat one’s stomach as a receptacle which is undiscerningly crammed with all the p
roducts of the modern food industry. This having been achieved, the work is quite straightforward.

  This work is mainly an effort to grasp the nature of thought. It must be understood that the action of thinking is an action of desiring, and the stopping of thought coincides with a stopping of desire. Mental therapy is therefore a therapy of desire.

  We have reached the fundamental problem: What is desire? What is the ultimate object of desire? How can desire be quenched?

  Let us state briefly that desire could be described as the thirst for perfect bliss. This perfect bliss (Ananda) is the inner essence of the Self. Therefore all desire is a desire for the Self. But we imagine that we desire objects. If we wish to quench desire, or to satisfy it – which amounts to the same thing – we must realise that we do not desire objects, but the Self; and that the Self is not far away from us, outside us, but that it is “ourselves”. What quenches desire is therefore the discovery of the Self, which comes about when one has understood that it is not the object which is desired.

  I would like to come back to the question of emotion. I think a man must have suffered, must have loved, must have gone through a certain number of disappointments before he reaches discrimination. It seems to me that emotion must precede discrimination, for the man who has neither loved nor suffered deeply cannot, so it seems to me, know discrimination, because he feels no need to examine himself.

  In the mind of western man, there is nearly always a tendency to overrate suffering. This tendency is inherited from Christianity and Romanticism. One has, for centuries, considered suffering to be an atonement, a purification, and a cause of uplift. Suffering may comprise such virtues but not necessarily so. What exactly is the true value of suffering? It is that of a symptom. Suffering is the sign of a mistake, a wrongly directed desire. It is not in itself an error, it is a consequence, the symptom of a mistake and, being a symptom, it is of value in so far as it is understood as such. Suffering in itself is absolutely useless. What is useful, is to understand what particular mistake it is a symptom of. In this sense, and in this sense only, one can say with Musset: “L’homme est un apprenti. La douleur est son maître”. Man is an apprentice and suffering is his master, but that does not mean that suffering is the only teacher.