A Commentary on the Upanishads by Swami Nirmalananda Giri -4

A Commentary

on the Upanishads

by

Swami Nirmalananda Giri

Visiting Death

Long ago a man named Vajasrabasa undertook a ritual to gain divine favor, but

deliberately performed it in such a way that only misfortune could accrue to him

rather than good. His virtuous sin, Nachiketa, tried to reason with him, but in response

he uttered the curse: “Thee I give to Death!”

Nachiketa was no ordinary son. He was an accomplished yogi, one who could

penetrate into the unseen worlds, and in keeping with his unjust father’s unjust words

he went to the realm presided over by Yamaraja, the King of Death. Yama welcomed

him with great respect and told Nachiketa to ask three favors from him. Being a

worthy son of an unworthy father, his first request was that his father should suffer no

anxiety about his fate, but that his anger should be appeased so that when Nachiketa

returned home his father would recognize and welcome him. Yama agreed.

Next Nachiketa asked to learn the sacrificial rite that leads to heaven. Yama agreed

to that also and taught him. Then Yama asked him to make his third request. The

upanishadic text continues:

“And then Nachiketa considered within himself, and said:

“‘When a man dies, there is this doubt: Some say, he is; others say, he is not.

Taught by thee, I would know the truth. This is my third wish.’

“‘Nay,’ replied Death, ‘even the gods were once puzzled by this mystery. Subtle

indeed is the truth regarding it, not easy to understand. Choose thou some other boon,

O Nachiketa.’

“But Nachiketa would not be denied.

“‘Thou sayest, O Death, that even the gods were once puzzled by this mystery, and

that it is not easy to understand. Surely there is no teacher better able to explain it than

thou–and there is no other boon equal to this.’

“To which, trying Nachiketa again, the god replied:

“‘Ask for sons and grandsons who shall live a hundred years. Ask for cattle,

elephants, horses, gold. Choose for thyself a mighty kingdom. Or if thou canst imagine

aught better, ask for that–not for sweet pleasures only but for the power, beyond all

thought, to taste their sweetness. Yea, verily, the supreme enjoyer will I make thee of

every good thing. Celestial maidens, beautiful to behold, such indeed as were not

meant for mortals—even these, together with their bright chariots and their musical

instruments, will I give unto thee, to serve thee. But for the secret of death, O

Nachiketa, do not ask!’

“But Nachiketa stood fast, and said: ‘These things endure only till the morrow, O

Destroyer of Life, and the pleasures they give wear out the senses. Keep thou

therefore horses and chariots, keep dance and song, for thyself. How shall he desire

wealth, O Death, who once has seen thy face? Nay, only the boon that I have chosen–

that only do I ask. Having found out the society of the imperishable and the immortal,

as in knowing thee I have done, how shall I, subject to decay and death, and knowing

well the vanity of the flesh–how shall I wish for long life?

“‘Tell me, O King, the supreme secret regarding which men doubt. No other boon

will I ask.’

“Whereupon the King of Death, well pleased at heart, began to teach Nachiketa the

secret of immortality.” (Katha Upanishad 1:1:20-29)

The mystery

As Yama told Nachiketa, even those powerful beings that control the forces of the

cosmos have been puzzled by the mystery of whether those who have gone beyond

death can be said to exist or not to exist. Reflective human beings have agonized over

the same problem. When they came to Buddha with the question he refused to give

any answer, saying that whichever he told them they would misunderstand and distort

his words. So he said nothing. Consequently, to say that Buddha taught the nonexistence

of an immortal self and individual immortality is perhaps an even worse

distortion than that which he sought to avoid through silence.

Yama, however, was not talking to word-juggling ignoramuses, but to an eminently

qualified inquirer. Yet, testing the strength of Nachiketa’s interest in such a profound

matter, he attempted to dissuade him from pressing the question. When that failed, he

resorted to that which has effectively deflected “seekers” through the history of

humanity. He offered him long-lived and prosperous progeny, vast material wealth and

possessions, unlimited pleasure and unlimited power, and finally, dominion over even

the subtle worlds and all that is therein. Throughout countless ages the mere promise

or prospect of such acquisitions have turned awakening consciousnesses from the path

of immortality and led them further into the morass of mortal life. But Nachiketa could

not be moved from his original resolve to learn the truth regarding immortality.

The Katha Upanishad cannot have been unknown to Jesus when he lived and

studied in India, and it can be speculated that it was in the context of the teachings of

this upanishad that he asked his disciples: “What is a man profited, if he shall gain the

whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his

soul?” (Matthew 16:26) I have to admit that when as a primary grade-schooler I first

heard this verse read out in church, I immediately thought: “No. The real question is:

‘What will a man take in exchange for his soul?’” Through the years I kept questioning

as to whether things were a blessing for life or a bribe to embrace inner death. This,

too, we see so often. From those early years and even till now I have seen so many

bribes offered and taken, all of them cheap and paltry compared to what the seekers

would have gained if they had turned away from the offers. And as I have pointed out,

in every instance the promise was withdrawn unfulfilled or the “gain” was ruthlessly

wrested from their grasp and they were left broken and empty. People do not need to

die to become “lost souls.” The suffering may not be eternal, but it is no less terrible

for that. I can truthfully say that throughout my life the most desolate souls I have met

were those that said to me with sad nostalgia: “I used to be…,” and then mentioned

some abandoned spiritual calling or involvement. The wheels of life were grinding

them down and tormenting them with the bitter memory of their loss along with the

impossibility of their regaining that which they had so carelessly and foolishly tossed

aside for “life” long ago.

Let us attend!

In Eastern Christian worship the exclamation “Let us attend!” is usually uttered

before some special reading or prayer is about to be intoned. We should indeed attend

to the words of Nachiketa when he replied to Yama’s offer:

“These things endure only till the morrow, O Destroyer of Life, and the pleasures

they give wear out the senses. Keep thou therefore horses and chariots, keep dance

and song, for thyself. How shall he desire wealth, O Death, who once has seen thy

face? Nay, only the boon that I have chosen–that only do I ask. Having found out the

society of the imperishable and the immortal, as in knowing thee I have done, how

shall I, subject to decay and death, and knowing well the vanity of the flesh–how shall I

wish for long life? Tell me, O King, the supreme secret regarding which men doubt. No

other boon will I ask.”

In Christianity and Buddhism a great deal of emphasis is placed on the memory of

death as a universal principle and the particular mortality of each one of us. In the

West this is superficially shrugged off as morbidity and “unhealthy,” but it can be

salutary indeed. It was only sensible that Nachiketa, having come face-to-face with

Death, should disregard all that which the human race has been madly seeking

throughout its existence. For in the East (including Christianity) only that which lasts

forever without any change is considered Real. Everything else is unreal, illusory.

Therefore that which can change and pass away is even now essentially nothing. Who,

then, would value any such? There is no need for a lengthy philosophical analysis of

psychic niceties or suchlike. The fact of their evanescent nature turns all desired

objects to mere fantasies in the consciousness of the wise.

“Whereupon the King of Death, well pleased at heart, began to teach Nachiketa the

secret of immortality.”

In sum: renunciation is the key to the secret of immortality.

The Good and the Pleasant

“The good is one thing; the pleasant is another. These two, differing in their ends,

both prompt to action. Blessed are they that choose the good; they that choose the

pleasant miss the goal.” (Katha Upanishad 1:2:1)

How simple and direct these words are! When, after years of being soaked

(sometimes drowned) in mere religion, when I found dharma one of the most beautiful

and wonderful things about it was its incredible simplicity. The religion I had had

before was simplistic–childishly so–but at the same time it was complex, convoluted

and tangled, because that was state of mind that had produced it and which it produced

in those unfortunate enough to accept and follow it. (Many avoided the problem by

professing the religion but not really following it.) In contrast, the profound dharma

was also as simple as the great ocean, gathering all into unity. I had tried reading

Western philosophers and theologians, and found them impossible to understand–

mostly because they were not really saying anything. The first time I opened a book by

Shankara, the greatest philosopher India has ever produced, it was with real anxiety.

Would I break apart on the rock of his verbiage? Not at all. Every sentence was so

exquisitely clear, every concept so unbelievably simple–and equally vast and deep. I

understood why: Shankara knew by his acquisition of Divine Consciousness. When

Shankara talked to me God was speaking. And God knows how to communicate.

Neither Shankara nor the Upanishads or the Gita really require a commentary. All

a “commentator” can really do is expand what is already there so we do not rush from

point to point in the original text and miss so much of it. Actually, all my commentaries

are really Pauses and Reflections. There is no need to explain to you what those sacred

texts mean. You can easily understand them for yourself. So all I am really doing is

ruminating over them with you. We are digesting them together. It is very satisfying.

At least to me–I hope it is to you, also.

The good and the pleasant

“The good is one thing; the pleasant is another.” This does not have to be the

situation–the problem is in us. Since the good dissolves the ego and frees us from its

seemingly eternal domination and bondage, it is only natural that those who are

inured, even addicted, to its rule will find the good bitter in the extreme. In the closing

chapter of the Bhagavad Gita Krishna speaks of the one who chooses the good: “Deep

his delight after strict self-schooling: sour toil at first but at last what sweetness, the

end of sorrow.” (Bhagavad Gita 18:37) Who would not choose this? Just about

everybody. Why? Because it requires “strict self-schooling.” We have to educate and

deliver ourselves. Neither God nor any holy being can do it for us. Therefore those

who cling to their ego-addiction avidly “take refuge” in and “surrender” to and “place

all my trust” in God, gods, gurus, saints, teachers, a religion, and whatever, knowing at

least subconsciously that it will not work, for they alone can do the needful. The Holy

Ones have already done all they could do for them. They have given the message and

pointed out the way. Now it is their turn to get to work. Otherwise nothing will happen.

And in their perversity this satisfies them completely, though they cover it up with

religiosity and “devotion.” Those who do wish to achieve the good must shake off their

self-hypnosis and begin the labor. They will be surprised at how pleasant it really is,

and in time will come to realize that they were enjoying pain and avoiding the real

pleasure that is found only in spiritual life.

Krishna describes the pleasant as essentially “sweet at first but at last how bitter:

that pleasure is poison.” (Bhagavad Gita 18:38) It is not just harmful–it is deadly. Saint

Ignatius of Antioch, a disciple of Saint John the Evangelist, wrote of those who,

drinking a sweet drink that contains poison, “sweetly drink in their death.” (Epistle to

the Trallians) “Aren’t we having fun?” “Come on–live!” “What are you afraid of?” “Why

don’t you find out what it is all about?” “What do you know about life?” These are the

desperate appeals of those whose consciousness is awakened enough for them to be

tormented by the example of those who have more fully awakened and who “touch not

the cup–it is death to the soul.”

The wise know that the good and the pleasant utterly differ in their ends. The

pleasant leads to ever more addiction, a craving for ever-increasing intoxication, and

finally complete collapse and destruction.

“When senses touch objects the pleasures therefrom are like wombs that bear

sorrow. They begin, they are ended: they bring no delight to the wise.” (Bhagavad Gita

5:22)

On the other hand: “Self-controlled, cut free from desire, curbing the heart and

knowing the Atman, man finds Nir vana that is in Brahman, here and

hereafter.” (Bhagavad Gita 5:26)

“For when a man’s heart has reached fulfillment through knowledge and personal

experience of the truth of Brahman, he is never again moved by the things of the

senses. Earth, stone and gold seem all alike to one who has mastered his senses. Such

a yogi is said to have achieved union with Brahman. Then he knows that infinite

happiness which can be realized by the purified heart but is beyond the grasp of the

senses. He stands firm in this realization. Because of it, he can never again wander

from the inmost truth of his being.” (Bhagavad Gita 6:8, 21)

The good also leads to complete collapse and destruction–the collapse and

disintegration of the ego and its attendants, ignorance and desire. Then: “He knows

bliss in the Atman and wants nothing else. Cravings torment the heart: he renounces

cravings. I call him illumined.” (Bhagavad Gita 2:55)

“The man of faith, whose heart is devoted, whose senses are mastered: he finds

Brahman. Enlightened, he passes at once to the highest, the peace beyond

passion.” (Bhagavad Gita 4:39)

“His mind is dead to the touch of the external: it is alive to the bliss of the Atman.

Because his heart knows Brahman his happiness is for ever.” (Bhagavad Gita 5:21)

“Already, here on earth, before his departure, let man be the master of every

impulse lust-begotten or fathered by anger: thus he finds Brahman, thus he is

happy.” (Bhagavad Gita 5:23)

Motivating forces

“These two, differing in their ends, both prompt to action.” Both the good and the

pleasant impel us to actions, but they do so in completely different ways.

The good points us to the way of benefit in a completely intelligent and nonemotional

way. For example, the good never motivates us by selfish means such as

promising reward or threatening punishment–this is the way of evil, including much of

religion. The good motivates us toward itself simply by revealing its inherent value.

The pleasant is altogether different. It only shows us its external appearance. It

does not reason with us, but entices or even compels us to seize it. The pleasant only

shows us its immediate or short-term effect, but completely hides from us its longterm

effects and blinds us to its inherent defects. The archetypal example of this is

found in the Bible. There we are told that “when the woman saw that the tree was good

for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise,

she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat.” (Genesis 3:6) Here we see all the problems

with the pleasant: only the external is considered, emotion and instinct come to

dominate and eclipse reason, and the ultimate effect is completely unapparent.

In sum, the good reveals but the pleasant conceals. It is necessary that we see the

good as truly good and the pleasant as harmful and even evil. This is not easy.

The bigger picture

One of the problems with prevailing religion of all kinds is its incredible smallsightedness.

Like the pleasant-oriented and pleasant-obsessed ego which it supports

and feeds, it is concerned with only the moment at hand or with goals that are utterly

irrelevant to the real nature of the human being. When we understand who/what we

really are, then alone can we comprehend what is the sole purpose of our existence:

conscious union with the Absolute. In light of this the upanishad concludes: “Blessed

are they that choose the good; they that choose the pleasant miss the goal.” So the

discrimination between the good and the pleasant is no light matter.

A genuine test of character

In the twenty-fifth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew we find a parable about foolish

and wise souls. Most of us do not really care if we are foolish, just as long as no one

labels us so. But we should care, and so the upanishad continues its teaching, saying:

“Both the good and the pleasant present themselves to men. The wise, having

examined both, distinguish the one from the other. The wise prefer the good to the

pleasant; the foolish, driven by fleshly desires, prefer the pleasant to the good.” (Katha

Upanishad 1:2:2) There is a lot of truth in these few lines, some of it embarrassing, but

nevertheless beneficial for us. (The good is not the pleasant, even in philosophy.)

“Both the good and the pleasant present themselves to men.” Whatever may be the

excuses we may make for ourselves, even portraying ourselves as weak or victims, no

one, NO ONE, forces anything upon us in life, however much it may seem otherwise.

Rather, the good and the pleasant simply “present themselves” to us. We are totally

responsible for our response to them, although, like Adam and Eve back in Genesis,

we try to put the blame on someone else, on some external factor. “And the man said,

The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat.…

And the woman said, The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat.” (Genesis 3:12,13)

It is really essential to us as we move through life (hopefully forward) that although

our deluded experience seems just the opposite, in reality all “things” are completely

neutral–it is our response to them that really gives them any character such as good,

bad, destructive, positive, etc. A little thought will show this. The deadliest poison is

harmless if we do not make contact with it. Conversely, the best medicine is worthless

if we do not consume it. Or think of this: garbage seems heavenly food to a starving

person, but not to someone who is well fed; a child’s toy means nothing to a mature

adult. Nothing has an innate ability to draw or force us–all the drawing and forcing is in

our own mind as it responds to the object. We can blame no one at any time. It is all in

us. If there are no grass seeds in the soil no grass will grow. The seeds have to be in us

to sprout and grow and bear fruit as thinking, willing, and acting.

“The wise, having examined both, distinguish the one from the other.” Viveka, the

ability to distinguish between the real and the unreal, between the true and the false,

between the transient and the permanent, is indispensable for the serious spiritual

aspirant. The wise possess and exercise this faculty, the eye of wisdom, by deeply

examining whatever is presented to them and discerning whether it is the good or the

merely pleasant they are being confronted with. Intelligence comes into the

foreground, feeling and emotion being banished from the mental field altogether.

Human beings operate either rationally or instinctually-emotionally. The wise are

rational at all times. At all times. For example, real love is clearsighted–never blind–

whereas infatuation masquerading as love is both blinding and blindness.

Preferring and driven

If two people are walking, one toward the north and the other toward the south, the

difference between them is very little–just the direction they are facing. But in the

matter of the wise and the foolish the differences are profound, for they are rooted in

their very being, especially the mind and intellect. Even as a child I always thought

that the statement of Abraham to Lazarus that “between us and you there is a great

gulf fixed,” (Luke 16:26) was spiritually symbolic, that a great gulf did indeed lie

between the Godwards and the earthwards. The upanishad is outlining this nature of

this gulf for us by describing its effects on both.

The wise prefer the good–they are not enticed, coerced, or “somehow drawn” to

the good. They intelligently–yes, intellectually–prefer it because they know its nature

and its effects. This is true of everything in their life, mundane, mental, and spiritual.

This is markedly true in the matter of religion. The religious expression of the wise is

always, peaceful, clear, intelligent, informed, and practical–it works.

The foolish, however are not so. They truly are a “troubled sea” (Isaiah 57:20)

“tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind” (Ephesians 4:14) as Isaiah and

Saint Paul observed. “Driven by fleshly desires,” it only follows that they prefer the

pleasant to the good, for the “flesh” cannot even perceive the good to any appreciable

degree; but they create a lot of illusions about it–all negative and self-assuring. Their

religion is subhuman, of course, catering to their emotions and their demands for the

indulgence of their whims and vices. However educated they may be, or how boring

and dry their church services, still animality reigns and all manner of subhuman

behavior is sanctioned and even elevated and “spiritualized.” Wallowing in the sty of

their comforting and indulgent religion, they cast many a contemptuous (and secretly

guilty) glance at those who are not so, and create many a bon mot about their

“unnatural denial and repressions” hinting of sinister implications for those who “run

away from life” and “refuse to face themselves,” and “expect too much from themselves

and others.” But they are still only talking pigs. Even though they like to say they are

“only human” and that God understands they are.

Driven by pleasure/pain, their humanity becomes submerged in the animality

impressed in their subconscious by millions of incarnations in subhuman forms.

Merely possessing a human body is no guarantee of humanity. The redoubtable Dr.

Bronner in a conversation with one of the monks of our ashram referred to some

people as “not yet HUMAN!” He was right. A house does not make a home and a

human body does not make a human. Humanity only dawns when intelligence

dominates and wisdom is gained. We need not be intellectual in the academic sense,

but we must be intelligent. Then if we use our intelligence there is a chance we may

become wise and thereby cross the great gulf.

The plain facts

Chances are Nachiketa never got voted “most popular” of anything and may not

even have been “a good mixer.” But Yama assessed him quite highly, saying: “Thou, O

Nachiketa, having looked upon fleshly desires, delightful to the senses, hast

renounced them all. Thou hast turned from the miry way wherein many a man

wallows.” (Katha Upanishad 1:2:3) Now this is a thumbnail portrait of a wise human

being, but it is a test of the wise and the foolish. The wise will accept it and the foolish

will not. So we should take a square look at it and our reaction will tell us which we are.

First of all, Nachiketa is not naive or “innocent.” He knows what is going on, even if

most things should not be going on. He has not turned away, but has deeply looked

into the desires of the flesh and the delights of the senses. He knows what the fake life

of the foolish is all about, and he has renounced it ALL–not just a little bit or even most,

but the whole mess. Why? Because he does not identify with the flesh and the senses,

but with the intelligence and his true self that is pure consciousness. He knows he is

not the perishable body.

“Thou hast turned from the miry way wherein many a man wallows,” says Yama.

Nachiketa sees that the world of body-sense enslavement is a suffocating bog–not just

ugly and repulsive to the wise, but deadly. He knows, with Jesus, that: “Ye cannot serve

God and mammon.” (Matthew 6:24) He also knows that in reality once a person has

reached the level of human evolution he cannot really live like an animal without dire

consequences, including terrible suffering. As humans we have simply gone beyond

that to which the foolish cling to so obsessively.

This is strikingly illustrated in Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son found in the

fifteenth chapter of Saint Luke. After wasting his inheritance, the man hired himself

out to a pig farmer. This is a symbol of someone who has enslaved himself to the lower

nature and the senses–pigs that wallow in filth, eat garbage, and demand more. “And

he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man

gave unto him.” Like nearly all of us, the poor soul wants to feed on and be satisfied

with the garbage that the pigs revel in, grunting: “This is living!” But it cannot be; we

are not pigs; we are not the senses or the body.

No matter how much we desire to regress to animal living, we cannot really do so.

And usually only pain will wake us up from such folly. When we do wake up, like the

Prodigal we will resolve: “I will arise and go” forward in the path of evolution, leaving

the sty and its pigs behind. The rising and the going will not be easy, but there simply

is nothing else for a true human being to do. Moreover, the path will not be long,

though it may seem so, for time drags when we are having struggle and pain. Jesus

indicates this, saying: “when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had

compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” All the perfected souls that

have taught us about spiritual life have assured us that the effort required of us is but a

token–nevertheless a token that must be paid. If we can but get a glimpse or conceive a

bit of what it will be to have arisen and travelled the way, then the price will seem so

small. Amazingly, Saint Paul tells us that Jesus “for the joy that was set before him

endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the

throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:2) Just think: the joy. This should be our perspective, too.

Again, renunciation is the way of immortality.

A Commentary on the

Katha Upanishad

The Way of Ignorance

The Two Ways

Yama, the King of Death, praises Nachiketa, saying: “Far from each other, and

leading to different ends, are ignorance and knowledge. Thee, O Nachiketa, I regard

as one who aspires after knowledge, for a multitude of pleasant objects were unable to

tempt thee.” (Katha Upanishad 1:2:4)

It is interesting to note that the concept of Two Ways of human life are to be found

in all religious traditions. Jesus spoke of the Broad Way and the Strait Way, and when

they met in Jerusalem and issued a joint spiritual letter–The Didache, usually called The

Teaching of the Twelve Apostles–his apostles began by saying there are two Ways in this

world. Long before that, the Katha Upanishad spoke of the Way of Ignorance and the

Way of Knowledge.

The Way of Ignorance is the subject of the three verses we will be considering, but

first Yama tells us the key trait of one who aspires to knowledge: he cannot be tempted

by the pleasant. This is because he sees its nature and its results. The pursuers of the

Way of Ignorance are not such as Nachiketa, and Yama now tells us about them and

the results of their walking in that Way.

The Way of Folly

“Living in the abyss of ignorance yet wise in their own conceit, deluded fools go

round and round, the blind led by the blind.” (Katha Upanishad 1:2:5) That certainly is

plain speaking! Let us go through this verse bit by bit.

Living in the abyss of ignorance. This word “abyss” is very disturbing in this context.

It indicates that the condition of ignorance is profound–not something than can easily

be removed or escaped. Rather, the person is sunk deep into the darkness of

ignorance, so deep that he cannot see anything but darkness, so deep that he can

hardly be extricated from it–at least in this life. It is not that his condition is utterly

hopeless, but that he simply has neither awareness nor interest. If that dawns, he is on

his way out of the abyss. But most of the time it does not happen. In a routine of the

Firesign Theatre, a disease is described with the concluding words: “The only cure for

which is death.” In many (actually most) cases of abysmal ignorance this is the truth.

The individual requires another birth before he can arise from the depths. Until then

he should be left alone.

Yet wise in their own conceit. Somewhere I read the words: “The problem with

ignorance is that it picks up confidence as it goes along.” Since ignorance is a byproduct

of ego, as ignorance increases so does egotism. Increasing in this alternating

cycle, invincible arrogance and invincible ignorance arise, take hold and consume the

ignorant person. This is really an ugly picture; but an accurate one. Thinking

themselves wise, how can the ignorant ever see the truth about themselves–both the

higher and the lower selves–and try to rectify themselves? They cannot. Not content to

revel in their private kingdom of ignorance, they then set about to aggressively expand

it through influence of others. And if they cannot influence they will dominate and

bully until they have extended their sphere of darkness. Again: ugly but accurate.

Living in the fantasy-land of ego, they sink deeper, believing that they are rising.

Deluded fools go round and round. Cycling in confusion, the foolish spiral

downward, seeming to go up and down but really only going down and down. In their

minds they veer back and forth, up and down, agitating themselves and others, but in

actuality they just keep on sinking. Because of this they continually go round and

round in the wheel of birth and death, perpetually bound to the torture wheel of

samsara–and reveling in every moment. They have discovered the secret of happiness

in this world: unconsciousness.

The blind led by the blind. Ignorance as well as misery loves company, in fact needs

it desperately and thrives on it. Supporting each other they stumble through this world

until death claims them and they get to do it all over–and over and over. When they are

not being the leader and the led, they are the pusher and the pushed, the dominating

and the dominated, the victimizer and the victim–alternating in these two roles, they

reel onward and downward.

Blind to eternity

“To the thoughtless youth, deceived by the vanity of earthly possessions, the path

that leads to the eternal abode is not revealed. This world alone is real; there is no

hereafter–thinking thus, he falls again and again, birth after birth, into my jaws.” (Katha

Upanishad 1:2:6)

Rendered heedless of the truth about his condition through involvement with

materiality–both his body and objects in the world–and deluded by what he thinks is

going on, the ignorant never sees the way beyond the abyss in which he dwells. He

simply cannot see it, just as we cannot hear frequencies beyond the range of our

hearing or see things beyond the range of our sight. He is deaf and blind to spirit in all

its aspects. Even if by some chance he should seek the way, if he finds it he will not

know it, nor if he come face to face with the way will he realize it. Just the opposite. He

will despise and deny it, even denouncing it as delusive or evil. On the other hand, he

will exult in devilish religion, teachers, and practices, seeking them out and devoting

himself to them. Let me give two examples I know of personally.

A great master used to plead with a young man to learn meditation, assuring him

that his progress would be rapid and he would be liberated in this life. But he did not

get initiated. When the master was about to leave his body he told his disciples that if

the man ever came to the ashram and expressed an interest, one of them was to initiate

him immediately. He never did. But a dozen or so years later one of the biggest frauds

the “yoga world” has ever produced came to town charging money for a worthless

technique. The man was in poor financial condition, and could not really afford it, but

he immediately slapped down the cash and got initiated into nothing.

Two Buddhist friends of mine visit a prison and instruct the inmates in Buddhist

philosophy and spiritual practice. They are practicers of the Pure Land School of

Buddhism. Whenever they try to get the prisoners to chant the liberating name of

Amida Buddha they refuse and insist that they chant Tibetan “power mantras” instead.

They love bondage and lust after control. They belong where they are.

“This world alone is real; there is no hereafter” is thought by many of the foolish,

but there are many more who do not actually think it but live as though they did.

Denial of spiritual realities is done more by deeds than by words. It does not matter

how devoutly or spiritually we may think, if we live carelessly and materially, as

centered on our ego as any ignoramus we would regard as “unspiritual.”

This is the real test. Thinking the material world alone is real, the ignorant return

to it again and again, living in the jaws of death. If we do the same, then we are fools. If

we do not, then we are wise.

The Mystery of the Self

Seeing is not always seeing and hearing is not always hearing. In some instances it

is misperception, and in others it is no perception at all. This is illustrated by an

incident from the life of Jesus. While speaking to the people, he prayed: “Father, glorify

thy name. Then came there a voice from heaven, saying, I have both glorified it, and

will glorify it again. The people therefore, that stood by, and heard it, said that it

thundered: others said, An angel spake to him.” (John 12:28, 29) Four levels of

perception are manifested here. One level knew that God had spoken, another thought

that an angel had spoken, another thought it had only thundered, and the fourth did

not hear a thing.

As a rule, phenomena can be classified in fours. The four castes spoken of in Indian

scriptures are not social strata based on physical birth, but four levels of awareness–in

fact, they correspond to the four responses to the speaking of God that Saint John has

recorded in this Gospel passage. Krishna follows the same classification in the

Bhagavad Gita, saying: “There are some who have actually looked upon the Atman,

and understood It, in all Its wonder. Others can only speak of It as wonderful beyond

their understanding. Others know of Its wonder by hearsay. And there are others who

are told about It and do not understand a word.” (Bhagavad Gita 2:29) But it is the

Katha Upanishad we are looking into at the moment, so let us see what Yama had to

say to Nachiketa about this matter of understanding the Self (atman).

“To many it is not given to hear of the Self. Many, though they hear of it, do not

understand it. Wonderful is he who speaks of it. Intelligent is he who learns of it.

Blessed is he who, taught by a good teacher, is able to understand it.” (Katha

Upanishad 1:2:7)

The “silent” majority

“To many it is not given to hear of the Self.” Most people–by far the most people–

have never heard of the Self and never will in this lifetime. Oh, yes, they will hear about

an immortal soul/spirit that a tyrannical God will reward or punish according to His

whim, but the real nature of that spirit as part of–and therefore one with–the Supreme

Reality and therefore supreme reality itself, eternal, immortal, and indivisible, will

never be even hinted at nor will they come up with the concept on their own. Further,

it will not be even suggested to them, either from within or without, that the spirit

nature is the Self–nothing more–and is the only true identity they can ever have.

Being unchanging, this Self cannot be affected or changed by anything–no, not

even by God. It is what it is, just as much as God is what He is. It is, therefore, not only

the most worthwhile thing for us to get involved with, it is the only thing we can

possibly be involved with. Everything else is illusion. This glorious truth of the Self,

known only to the seers of Sanatana Dharma (there are others in various religions that

hold this, but they are looked upon as mavericks and heretics by those groups), must

be the sole perspective in which we view our present situation as consciousnesses

experiencing the process of evolution. (It is the ever-shifting dance of prakriti to which

we have become attached that evolves; we are ever the same, ever the One.)

Living in the silence of ignorance, what can they do? Not much, obviously.

The uncomprehending

“Many, though they hear of it, do not understand it.” This is true of many who,

though ostensibly adherents to Sanatana Dharma, really do not get the idea–especially

about the Self. These are those that frequent temples, ashrams and saints as a kind of

insurance against calamity and trouble. Then there are those that only run to those

holy places when problems arise. Obviously they have no degree of comprehension

regarding the Self.

Neither do most who profess to understand the Self. This is seen by their words

and deeds. If someone believes the building is on fire we can tell it by their attempts to

get out. Similarly, if someone believes in the truth about the Self they will order their

entire lives accordingly–not just assent to the concept. To know the Self, to enter into

the fullness of its consciousness and being, will be the focus of their life and thought.

Sri Ramakrishna often said that if a thief learned of a great treasure being kept in

the room next to where he was living, he would not be able to sleep for thinking about

how to break through the wall and get it. In the same way, those who really understand

about the wonder of the Self will not rest until they have (re)claimed the Treasure for

themselves. Spiritual purification and spiritual practice are the means for breaking

through the wall and claiming the prize.

We have a dilemma here, also: Only those who understand about the self will be

motivated to engage in tapasya to realize it fully; yet only those who are engaged in

tapasya can have any glimmer of the self and be motivated to practice! The solution lies

in the fact that in time the Self begins to urge us to its realization, that we will intuit the

presence of the Self and start moving toward the point where, when we hear about it,

we will accept and act upon what we hear.

It is interesting to see that Yama does not mention those who reject or deny the

truth of the Self. Apparently to him they do not even exist.

Wonderful

We joke sometimes about the exaggerations of the theatrical and motion picture

industries. “It is colossal! Magnificent! The greatest ever!” and suchlike continually

pour out in conversation and advertisements. The song, Hollywood, assures us that out

there “you’re ‘terrific’ if you’re good.” Divinity, on the other hand, has a somewhat

different viewpoint, so Yama tells Nachiketa: “Wonderful is he who speaks of it.” He is

not speaking of a parrot, a spiritual phonograph, but of one who speaks with awakened

awareness–even if not from perfect knowledge or realization. “For out of the

abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.” (Matthew 12:34) The implication here is

that we should seek out and only listen to those who speak of the Self, from the Self,

and in the perspective of the Self. Theology is usually only so much distracting noise,

and so is most “religious” and “spiritual” talk. Buddha likened a true teacher or

teaching to a finger pointing at the moon–only that which points us to our own Reality

is itself real and worthwhile. Such a teacher or teaching is wonderful indeed.

Intelligent

The word “stupid” gets tossed about in casual conversation as much as does

“wonderful,” and no one relishes being thought stupid. (Few care whether they

actually are stupid, just as long as nobody notices or points it out.) Yama, with his very

definite perspective, assures Nachiketa that the intelligent person is the one who

pursues knowledge of the Self. This is done in two ways: listening to or reading the

teachings about the Self of those who have themselves known the self, and–most

importantly–by actively seeking to know one’s own Self through careful analysis

(swadhyaya) and spiritual practices, most especially meditation. This latter point is

very necessary for us to grasp. Intellectually intelligent people love learning–and they

should. However, it is easy to fall into the trap of studying all the theory and not getting

down to any practice to determine the validity of the theory.

Saint Silouan of Athos said that delight in the study of theology was the false

mysticism of the ego. When Swami Turiyananda first met Sri Ramakrishna he was

intensely studying Vedanta for at least six hours a day. Upon hearing of this, Sri

Ramakrishna was astounded. “What else does Vedanta say except that Brahman alone

is real, the world is illusory, and the Self and Brahman are one?” he asked. “So why do

you need six hours of study for that?” Turiyananda had the good sense to understand,

and began to devote himself to japa and meditation in order to know the Self–not just

know about the Self. In the West it is a common error to assume that knowing about

something is the same thing as knowing it. More than once I have read in catechisms

that knowing God is accomplished by reading the catechism! That is stupid.

Blessed

To be wonderful and intelligent is good, but to be blessed is the ideal. So Yama

concludes: “Blessed is he who, taught by a good teacher, is able to understand it.” This

is because a good teacher does not just impart theoretical knowledge, but reveals to

the student the practical means by which he can open his understanding through

meditation to behold and know the Self. Krishna, being the Supreme Teacher, instructs

Arjuna in the Gita about meditation, saying: “If he practices meditation in this manner,

his heart will become pure.” (Bhagavad Gita 6:12) “He must be…united constantly

with me in his meditation.” (Bhagavad Gita 12:14) “The practice of serenity, sympathy,

meditation upon the Atman, withdrawal of the mind from sense-objects, and integrity of

motive, is called austerity of the mind.” (Bhagavad Gita 17:16) “Make a habit of

practicing meditation, and do not let your mind be distracted. In this way you will come

finally to the Lord, who is the light-giver, the highest of the high.” (Bhagavad Gita 8:8)

How to Either Know or Not Know the Self

Let the student (who is often a “buyer”) beware

“The truth of the Self cannot be fully understood when taught by an ignorant man,

for opinions regarding it, not founded in knowledge, vary one from another. Subtler

than the subtlest is this Self, and beyond all logic. Taught by a teacher who knows the

Self and Brahman as one, a man leaves vain theory behind and attains to truth.” (Katha

Upanishad 1:2:8)

By “the truth of the Self” is meant both the philosophical, scriptural truth and the

direct perception of the truth experienced in meditation. However Yama is at this point

speaking more on the side of learning the intellectual truth about the Self, its nature,

and its possibility of realization.

We all know the incredible and impenetrable tangle of theologies that constitute

what most people think are the religions of the world. The reason for this is simple:

most (almost all) teachers of religion are fundamentally ignorant. Ignorant not in the

intellectual sense, but in the intuitive sense. Since we do need an intellectual road map

to help us in our search for direct experience of the Self, this is a serious matter. For an

attempt to figure out the truth of the Self in a purely theoretical manner will only add to

the prevailing confusion. We will just become one more voice in the cacophony of

ignorant religion or philosophy. Nothing is worse than an ignoramus that believes he

has an “inside track.” As Jesus observed: “If the ‘light’ that is in thee be [actually]

darkness, how great is that darkness!” (Matthew 6:23)

Consequently, it is a most detrimental thing to come into the orbit of an ignorant

teacher and accept his words–and even worse to act on them. Some years back there

was a most interesting motion picture called Apprentice to Murder. It was based on the

actual experience of a man who as an adolescent came into contact with a “wise man”

in the southern hills. This man conducted a kind of church whose members studied a

nineteenth-century book of what might be called folk magic. He had genuine psychic

abilities and really did work miracles. This boy became his student and ended up being

jailed as an accomplice in the man’s murder of someone he considered a “black

magician.” This is a rather drastic example, but frankly it is much less destructive in

the long run than involvement with many contemporary teachers, some of the worst of

whom are in the yoga world. To be confused is worse than being merely ignorant, and

being flawed and distorted by wrong yoga practices is even worse.

Beyond the intellect

“Subtler than the subtlest is this Self, and beyond all logic,” says Yama. Being

subtler than the subtlest, the Self cannot possibly be perceived by any sense–including

those of the subtle bodies–or conceived of by even the highest and subtle reaches of

the intellect. Yet, the Self can be known. This is possible only when “taught by a

teacher who knows the Self and Brahman as one, a man leaves vain theory behind and

attains to truth” through the practice of meditation, instruction in which a qualified

teacher will give. This really marks out the knowledgous teacher from the ignorant

teacher. The ignorant teacher will only expound theory, “proving” what he teaches by

intellectual means. The worthy teacher may say much the same words, but will point

the student to the means by which he can attain the vision of the Self. He will establish

the student in the practice of correct meditation, without which nothing that is real can

possibly be known.

A bit more. Yama tells us that the teacher should be one who knows–not a

rhetorician or theoretician. Now it is impossible for us to look into the consciousness of

a teacher, so how will we know he has real knowledge? We cannot in an absolute sense,

but Yama gives us a trait that at least assures us the teacher is not altogether astray: He

will affirm the oneness of the Self and Brahman. No matter how cleverly, convincingly,

and cutely he may speak, however much he may appeal to our emotions and deluded

intellects, if he does not insist on the unity of the Self and Brahman, saying with the

Chandogya Upanishad “THAT THOU ART,” he is unworthy and to be turned away

from. Unhappily, there are a lot of ignoramuses who appeal to egotistical fools by

saying: “You are God.” The true teacher says not that we are God, but that God is us.

There is an infinite difference. Furthermore, the real teacher does not just tell us this

fact, he instructs in the means to find it out for ourself. These two traits must be

present before we even begin to think about accepting a teacher as a valid guide.

The ultimate test of a teacher is our own capacity, made accessible to us by his

instruction, to leave all speculation behind and enter into the Reality that is both

Brahman and the Self while remaining ever One. Then all the gods and sages will say

of us what Yama said of Nachiketa: “The awakening which thou hast known does not

come through the intellect, but rather, in fullest measure, from the lips of the wise.

Beloved Nachiketa, blessed, blessed art thou, because thou seekest the Eternal. Would

that I had more pupils like thee!” (Katha Upanishad 1:2:9)

Om Tat Sat

                                                        

(Continued...) 

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