Yog Naye Aayam #1

Yoga is a science, not a scripture. Yoga has nothing to do with Islam, Hindu, Jain or Christian.
But whether it is Jesus, Mohammed, Patanjali, Buddha, Mahavira—any person who has attained truth has not attained it without passing through Yoga. Apart from Yoga there is no way to reach the ultimate truth of life. What we call religions are companions of beliefs. Yoga is not of beliefs; Yoga is a sutra-like system of scientific experiments directed toward the truth of life.
Therefore, the first thing I would like to say to you is: Yoga is science, not belief. No kind of faith is necessary for the realization of Yoga. No kind of blindness is needed for the practice of Yoga. The atheist can enter the practice of Yoga just as the theist can. Yoga does not bother about atheist or theist.
Science does not depend upon your assumptions; on the contrary, because of science you have to transform your assumptions. No science expects beliefs or creeds from you. Science expects only one thing: experiment. Science says, do, see. Because the truths of science are real truths, they do not need any faith. Two and two are four, they are not to be believed. If someone does not believe, he will fall into trouble; two and two being four will not fall into trouble because of him.
Science does not begin with belief; science begins with search, with inquiry. So too, Yoga does not begin with belief; it begins with search, with curiosity, with exploration. Therefore, for Yoga only the capacity to experiment is needed, the strength to experiment is needed, the courage to inquire is needed; and nothing else is needed.
When I say Yoga is a science, I would like to say a few sutras to you, which are the fundamental bases of the science of Yoga. These sutras have no relation to any religion, although without these sutras no religion can stand alive. These sutras need no support from any religion, but without support from these sutras a religion cannot exist for even a moment.
The first sutra of Yoga: Life is energy. Life is shakti.
For a long time science was not ready to agree; now it has agreed. For a long time science thought: the world is substance, matter. But thousands of years before science arrived at its discoveries Yoga had declared that matter is untrue, a false appearance, an illusion, a maya. Illusion does not mean it is not; illusion means: as it appears it is not, and as it is, it does not appear. In the last thirty years science has had to fall into step with Yoga, one step at a time.
In the eighteenth century scientists declared that God is dead, the soul has no existence, matter is everything. But in the last thirty years the situation has reversed. Science has had to say that matter is not, it only appears. Energy is the truth, shakti is the truth. But because of the intense speed of energy, matter appears.
Walls are visible—if you try to pass through, your head will break. How to call walls an illusion? They are clearly seen, they have being. If there were no ground under your feet, where would you stand?
No, not in that sense does science say matter is not. It says that what appears to us is not as it appears.
If we run an electric fan at very high speed, its three blades will stop appearing as three. Because they move so fast that the empty gap between them, before you can perceive it, is filled. Before the empty space can be caught by the eye, another blade arrives there. If a fan is run very fast, you will see a single circular sheet of tin spinning, not the blades. You will not be able to count how many blades there are. If it can be run even faster, you will not be able to throw a stone through; the stone will fall on this side. And if it can be run at speeds like atoms revolve, you could sit on it comfortably; you would not fall. And you would not even know that blades are moving underneath—because before the time it takes for your feet to inform your head that the blade has changed, the next blade will have come under you. If the gaps, the intervals, cannot be detected, you can stand quite at ease.
So it is. We are standing like this even now. Atoms are spinning with tremendous speed; because of their speed things seem stationary. Nothing is stationary in this world. And all that appears stationary is moving.
Even if things themselves were merely moving, that would not be the difficulty. The deeper science went breaking the atom, it found that after the atom there remains no matter, only energy-packets, electrons, electric units. To call them particles is not right, because ‘particle’ suggests matter. A new word had to be coined in English: quanta. Quanta means: both particle and not-particle; both particle and wave together. Electricity can have waves, not particles. Energy can have waves, not particles. But our language is old, so we keep saying particle. There is nothing like a particle. In the eyes of science this entire universe is an expansion of energy—of electrical energy.
The first sutra of Yoga is this: life is energy, shakti.
The second sutra of Yoga: energy has two dimensions—existence and non-existence; existence and non-existence.
Shakti can be in existence and it can be in non-existence. When shakti moves into non-existence, the world becomes void; when it moves into existence, creation expands. Whatever is, Yoga says, can also not be. Whatever is can dissolve into not-being. That which has birth has death. That which has being has non-being. What appears can also disappear.
Yoga holds that in this world every phenomenon is two-dimensional. Nothing here is one-dimensional.
We cannot say that a man is born and he never dies. We may extend his life, yet again and again we will have to ask: at some point he must have died, or he will die. It is impossible even to conceive a notion that there is one pole called birth and the other pole called death is not. Far it may be, infinitely far it may appear—but the other pole is inevitable. With one pole the other is as inevitable as the two sides of a coin are inevitable. If a coin could have only one side... it seems impossible. The other side will be there! For one side to be, the other must be.
The second sutra of the science of Yoga is: everything has a double dimension. One dimension of being—existence; another of non-being—non-existence.
The world is, and the world can also not be. We are, and we can also not be. Whatever is, can also not be. Do not take ‘not being’ to mean that it will be in some other form. No—absolutely not be. Existence is one aspect, non-existence is the other.
It seems difficult to conceive: how can being arise from non-being? How can being enter into not-being? But if we look around, we will see that each moment that which is not is becoming, and that which is is dissolving into not-being.
This sun of ours—each day it cools a little. Its rays are being lost into the void. Scientists say it can keep hot for another four thousand years. In four thousand years all its rays will be lost into the void, then it too will be void.
If rays can be lost into the void, then from the void rays must also be coming; otherwise how would suns be born? Science says our sun is dying, but other suns are being born elsewhere. From where are they being born? They are being born out of the void.
The Vedas say: when there was nothing. The Upanishads speak of that moment when there was nothing. The Bible too speaks of that moment when there was nothing—only nothingness. From that nothingness, being is born; and being, moment to moment, merges back into nothingness. If we take the totality of existence as one, then alongside it we must accept non-existence.
The second sutra of Yoga is: behind each existence, non-existence is joined.
So shakti has two dimensions: existence and non-existence. Energy can be, and it can not be; it can be lost in the ‘no’. Therefore Yoga holds: creation is only one aspect; dissolution—pralaya—is the other. It is not that all will remain forever—things will be lost, become void. Again and again existence will happen, again and again it will be lost. Break a seed and nowhere will you find a trace of a tree. Search as much as you like, you will find no news of the tree. Yet from this tiny seed the tree surely comes. Have we never wondered from where that which is never found in the seed comes? And how so huge a tree can be hidden in so small a seed?
Then that tree gives birth to seeds and disappears again. Exactly so the whole existence comes to be and is lost. Energy comes into existence and slips into non-existence.
Non-existence is very hard to grasp. Existence we can see. Therefore, in the eyes of Yoga, the one who believes only in existence, who thinks existence is all, is seeing only the half. And to know the half is ignorance. Ignorance does not mean not knowing; ignorance means knowing in fragments. We all know something—if I know even that I do not know, still I know. Knowing is intrinsic to us. Therefore ignorance is not the absence of knowing; even the most ignorant person knows something. In the vision of Yoga, ignorance means knowing only the half.
And remember, a half-truth is worse than untruth. Because from untruth one can be freed; from half-truth it is very difficult to be freed. It looks like truth and yet it is not. It appears to be truth and yet it is not. If it were a total untruth, sheer untruth, there would be no delay in dropping it. But when it is fragmentary, half truth, dropping it becomes very difficult.
There is another reason: a thing like truth cannot be halved; by halving it you kill it. Can you make your love half? Can you tell someone, I love you half?
Either you love or you do not. Half-love is impossible.
Can you say, I steal half? You might steal half a rupee. But theft of half a rupee is whole theft. Theft of a lakh of rupees too is whole theft. Theft cannot be halved. Things can be halved; theft cannot be.
Half—half means you are in a delusion.
So Yoga says: those who see only existence are holding the half. And the one who holds the half lives in delusion, lives in ignorance. It has another aspect too. The man who says, I have been born but I do not want to die—he is holding the half. He will suffer, he will live in ignorance. Do whatever you do, death will come—because the half cannot be cut. If you have accepted birth, then death is its other half; it is joined to it. The man who says, I will choose only happiness, not misery—he again falls into mistake. Yoga says: by choosing the half you fall into error. Misery is happiness’s other half. Therefore the man who wants to be happy will have to be miserable. The one who wants silence will have to be restless. There is no way otherwise.
Yoga says: to drop the half is ignorance. It is its own other half.
But we do not see the whole! The aspect which appears to us—we catch hold of it and go on denying the other aspect. Not understanding that if we have caught the half, the other half is waiting behind, present, finding an opportunity; it will reveal itself soon.
Yoga says: energy has two forms. And the one who understands both forms moves in Yoga. Whoever catches one form, the half, becomes a-non-yogi. The one we call a bhogi is simply the man who clings to the half. The one we call a yogi is the one who holds the whole.
Yoga means the total. Yoga means union. Even in mathematics yoga means ‘addition’. In the language of the inner, Yoga means integrated, the total, the whole, the entire.
We do not call bhogi the enemy of Yoga; we call bhogi the one who catches the half and takes it for the whole and lives by it. The yogi comes to know the whole—hence he does not cling at all.
This is a great wonder: the clingers always cling to the half; the one who has known the whole does not cling. The one who has seen that birth is together with death—why should he cling to birth? And why should he cling to death either? Because he knows birth is together with death. The one who knows that happiness is together with misery—why should he cling to happiness? And why should he cling to misery either? He knows that happiness and misery are two sides of the same coin. Not two things—two dimensions of one thing. Therefore the yogi goes beyond clinging.
Understand the second sutra rightly: energy, shakti, has two forms. And we all are engaged in trying to grasp one form. Someone clings to youth, then suffers old age. He does not know that youth’s other half is old age. In truth, youth means that state which is becoming old. Youth means the journey toward old age. An old man does not become old as intensely—remember—as a young man becomes old. The old man begins to become old slowly; the young man becomes old fast. Youth is the energy of becoming old. Old age is the energy of youth that has been spent. Two sides of the same coin. One is the front door of the house, the other the back door.
Birth and death, happiness and misery; all the dualities of life—existence and non-existence, theist and atheist. They too both hold the halves. Therefore, in the vision of Yoga, both are ignorant. The theist says: God is. He cannot even conceive that God’s not-being could also be. But this is a very weak theist, because he is placing God outside the law. The law applies equally to all things. If God is, his not being also must be.
The atheist holds the other half. He says: God is not.
But that which is not can be. And to insist so strongly that he is not betrays the fear that he might be. Otherwise, what is the need to insist? When a theist says: God certainly is—and is ready to fight—he too is betraying the fear that God might not be. Otherwise what is the problem if someone says he is not?
The theist is ready to fight because he is clutching one half of God. Whether you clutch your own birth or clutch God’s being, it is the same—denial of the other half.
Yoga says: both are—being and not-being together.
Therefore the yogi says to the atheist: you too come, because you have half a truth; and to the theist too he says: you also come, because you have only half a truth—and half-truths are more dangerous than untruths.
The second sutra is: between the opposites energy expands.
Between darkness and light there is only one thing expanding—not two things. But to us it seems there are two. Ask a scientist! He will say: not two. He will say: what we call darkness is only less light, and what we call light is only less darkness. The difference is of degrees.
Therefore, in the night there are birds who can see. It is darkness for you—not for them. Why? Their eyes can catch even such slow light.
It is not only slow light that slips out of the eye’s grasp—too much light also slips out. If very intense light is thrown into your eyes, you will be blinded immediately. There is a limit for seeing. Below that also is darkness; above that also is darkness. Only a small band is there within which we perceive light. But what we call darkness is also gradations of light—degrees. The difference there is not qualitative, it is quantitative. No difference of quality; only of measure.
Have you ever reflected on heat and cold? We think they are two things. No, not two things. Heat-cold will make it easy to understand. But we say: not two things? When the sun pours heat upon us how can we take it as the same? When we sit in a cool shade, how can that coolness be the sun’s heat?
I am not saying: treat them as one and stop sitting in the shade. I am only saying: what you call cool shade is only a lesser quantity of heat. And what you call scorching sun is only a lesser quantity of coolness.
Try a small experiment: warm one hand near a stove and keep the other hand on ice; then put both hands into a bucket of water. You will be in difficulty—whether the water is hot or cold! One hand will say cold; the other will say hot.
Now one and the same bucket cannot be both. Yet two messages are coming! The hand cooled by ice will feel the water warm; the hand warmed at the stove will feel it cool. Hot and cold are relative.
The second sutra of Yoga is: life and death, existence and non-existence, darkness and light, childhood and old age, happiness and misery, heat and cold—all are relativities. They are names of one and the same thing. Good and bad...
Here a difficulty may arise. To agree about heat and cold as one is easy—no harm. But Ram and Ravan—there a snag appears. The mind will say: how can that be? But Ram and Ravan too are gradations; they are not two opposing entities, they are more or less of one thing. In Ram, Ravan is a little less; in Ravan, Ram is a little less—this much only. Therefore the one who loves Ravan will see Ram in him, and the one who is an enemy of Ram will see Ravan even in him. These are gradations. What you love looks like Ram; what you do not love looks like Ravan. You can find people who see bad in Ram, and no shortage of those who see good in Ravan. Gradations. It will depend on your hand. If Ram and Ravan could be placed in one bucket, it would be easy—but they cannot. Good and evil too, in the vision of Yoga, are differentiations of one thing.
This does not mean you should become bad. It does not mean you should abandon goodness. Yoga’s entire statement is: if you grasp goodness strongly, remember—the other side, evil, will also come into your grasp. A good man cannot avoid being bad; and a bad man cannot avoid being good.
Therefore if you slightly prod a good man, you will find a bad man sitting inside. And if you search a bad man a little, you will find a good man sitting inside. A great wonder: if we examine the dreams of good men, they will prove bad. Almost all good men dream bad dreams. The one who saved himself from stealing in the day, steals at night—compensation! Where will the other half go? The one who fasted in the day is invited at night to the royal palace and feasts. The one who was virtuous all day is besieged at night by dreams of lust.
Therefore if you pour wine into a good man, then you will know who is sitting inside! Wine cannot make anyone bad; wine has no such property. Wine only has one property: it uncovers the other side. Often those who drink seem better after drinking.
I have heard of a man: one evening he returned home. His wife was very surprised. She said: it seems you have come home drunk today!
The man said: what are you saying? I haven’t drunk at all.
She said: your very behavior says you are drunk.
The man said: O Paramatma, what a strange world!
He used to come home drunk every day; this day he had not drunk. But when he came drunk, his inner good man would appear. Generally the people we call bad have good men hidden in them. And those we call good have bad men hidden in them. However, when the good man’s bad acts, even his badness is hung on a good peg—principle, morality, etiquette, discipline are taken as excuses for strangling his son’s neck. If a good teacher punishes, he says he does it for the punished one’s benefit. Even when a good man does bad, he hangs the bad on a good peg. And when a bad man does good, naturally he has only bad pegs, so he hangs the good there. But whoever clings to one side, the other remains present within him.
Yoga says: understand both—and do not cling.
Therefore, when the news of Yoga first reached the West, thinkers there were very puzzled. They said: in this Yoga there seems no place at all for morality! There seem to be, unlike the Ten Commandments of the Christians—no ‘don’ts’: this is bad, that is bad. No talk of don’ts. What kind of Yoga is this!
But science never takes sides. Science opens both sides impartially. Yoga says: this is evil, this is good—and both are the two sides of one coin. If you grasp even one, the other will remain hidden within you. Understand both—and do not cling.
Therefore, Yoga is the transcendence of good and evil. Going beyond both.
Yoga is the transcendence of joy and sorrow.
Yoga is the transcendence of birth and death.
Yoga is the transcendence of existence and non-existence—beyond both.
If this second sutra is understood well, many things ahead will become easy to understand. The other side of each thing is always there. Therefore, whenever you grasp one, know well—you have grasped its opposite too.
When you say to someone in love, Now that I have met you, I never want to part—know well that separation is present in your union; it will happen. In truth, even while meeting the lover says: I am very afraid that we may not be separated! He too senses the other side. Otherwise, why talk of separation at the very moment of meeting? When we have met, we have met. But in the moment of meeting, separation stands behind like a shadow.
When you make someone a friend, know that you have also created a potential enemy. It is certain that without making a friend one cannot make an enemy. No direct way of making an enemy has yet been found. Even to be an enemy, one has to pass through friendliness. So when you make a friend, Yoga says: know that the enemy stands behind like a shadow.
In every part of life, remember the opposite, then clinging will fall. When happiness knocks on your door, you will peer behind it and see that it must have brought sorrow with it. It does—sorrow is its shadow. It never comes without it. And when sorrow comes... for one who has entered Yoga—when happiness comes, he lets it come, but does not welcome it much, for he knows whom it carries behind; and when sorrow comes, he seats it also with welcome, because he knows whom it brings behind. He becomes equal in happiness and misery. The only basis for equanimity is this: every phenomenon is necessarily linked to its opposite. Without opposition there is no existence. The one you have loved—you have sown the seeds of hatred in that very place. The one you have met—you have walked the path of separation with him. The one you have made your own—you have taught him the formulas of becoming a stranger. The one who becomes famous sows the seeds for his humiliation. The victor invites defeat.
One day Lao Tzu said to his friends: no one has ever been able to defeat me. Naturally his friends fell silent. They asked: tell us the secret too—how is it that no one could defeat you? We too do not want to be defeated. Then Lao Tzu laughed and said: I will not tell the sutra to the wrong people. They said: what do you mean wrong people? Tell us the path by which we too may not be defeated. Lao Tzu said: you will certainly be defeated, because the one who does not want to be defeated has already invited defeat. My sutra is this: no one could defeat me, because I never wanted to win. The one who wants to win will be defeated.
Lao Tzu was passing through a forest with his disciples. The whole forest was being cut. Thousands of carpenters were felling trees. Only one tree stood untouched; no one was even touching it. Lao Tzu said: go and ask this tree the secret of its survival. Has it come to know the sutras of Yoga? Has it known the Tao? When the whole forest is being cut, why is this tree not cut?
The disciples went. They were at a loss about what to ask a tree. They circled around it. The fact was clear: not even a leaf had been plucked, not a single branch cut. Its branches spread so far that a thousand bullock-carts could stand in its shade, dense and vast. They thought: let us ask the carpenters who are cutting the neighboring trees. They asked: what is the secret of this tree’s survival? Why don’t you cut it?
The carpenters said: this tree is very strange. Its wood is so crooked that it cannot be used for furniture.
They said: at least cut it for fuel!
They said: this tree is very strange—its wood throws so much smoke that no one can use it as fuel. This tree is absolutely worthless. To cut it would be useless labor wasted.
They returned and told Lao Tzu: the secret is that the tree is absolutely useless. Its wood is not straight, it smokes too much, its leaves have no medicinal use, no animal eats them. The tree is utterly useless.
Lao Tzu said: blessed is this tree! Its branches did not try to be straight—hence they were saved from being cut. See those trees striving to be straight—they are being cut down. This tree’s leaves did not try to be something, to be tasty—hence no one came to pluck them. This tree did not try to be anything—therefore it is, and is immersed in its own bliss.
Lao Tzu said: this is my trick too. No one could defeat me because I never went to win. I have always been already defeated—hence to defeat me is difficult.
Once, Lao Tzu said, on hearing that no one could defeat me, a wrestler in a village challenged me. I was staying there. Someone must have heard me say that no one could defeat me. News spread in the village. A wrestler took it as a challenge. He came and planted a flag at my door and said: I will defeat you! Lao Tzu said: you will not be able to. He said: I will defeat you now.
A crowd gathered. The wrestler tied his loincloth, invoked God, and jumped into the arena. Lao Tzu lay down on his back in front of him and said: come, sit on me!
The wrestler said: what kind of a man are you? You have destroyed the very pleasure of defeating you.
Lao Tzu said: I told you already—no one could defeat me till now because I am already defeated. I do not want to win. Come, sit upon my chest and beat the drum in the village that you defeated me—pinned me down.
The wrestler said: it is useless to sit on the chest of such a man. He touched Lao Tzu’s feet and went home. He said: the quarrel is meaningless.
Yoga says: in the dualities, choice is futile. Yoga says: those two that always appear in life—do not choose between them. They are both forms of one and the same. It is only a deception. The face is different; behind, something else. Existence–non-existence, life–death, happiness–misery, good–bad, morality–immorality, religion–irreligion are all expansions of the same thing. Saint–thief—expansions of the same. Do not choose, understand. By understanding, transcendence happens.
The second sutra of Yoga: energy oscillates between existence and non-existence. Where mountains of energy rise, there valleys of energy also form. Where existence is created, there non-existence is present too. Where creation is, there dissolution is.
Therefore this land has not thought of creation alone; along with srishti it has thought of pralaya simultaneously. With being, not-being. All that comes to be is already on a journey toward not-being; and what has not-been comes again on the journey of being.
Have you seen a wave in the ocean? The wave that has risen is on a journey to fall. The hollow that forms below it is on a journey to rise. Every moment all things enter into their opposite. All things are entering their opposites. The one who sees this—his craving, his desire, his lust disappear. He does not drop desire; desire dissolves—because desire is the name of choice.
The third sutra of Yoga: existence has two forms.
I said: energy—the first sutra.
Second: energy has two forms—non-existence and existence.
Third: existence has two forms—what we call conscious and what we call unconscious. But they are only two forms, not two things. Those whom we call religious people also think of them as two separate things—they conceive consciousness separate and unconsciousness separate; body separate, soul separate. Such separateness is not. Properly understood, that part of Atman which can be grasped by the senses is called body, and that part of the body which cannot be grasped by the senses is called Atman.
Conscious and unconscious are two forms of existence. A stone lies there. It is, but it is unconscious. You stand beside it. You are too. In being there is no difference: both are existent. But one is conscious and one is unconscious.
Yet the stone can become conscious, and you can become stone-like. They are convertible. That is why you eat wheat and it turns into blood. Iron enters your body and becomes living. If we take out all the material of the human body and lay it on a table, it will not fetch more than five rupees. A little iron, aluminum, phosphorus, copper—such things will come out; and the major part is water. Hardly five rupees’ worth. But within a living body they are conscious and alive. If the hand is hurt there is pain; the same portion of the hand, yesterday outside, had no pain. Tomorrow it will be outside again.
Where you sit, at least ten graves have been made since—one per square foot. On the whole earth, of all the people who have ever been, the proportion is such that wherever we stand, in that small one square foot of soil at least ten human bodies have turned to dust. Those ten were once alive; today they lie beneath your feet like dust. Today you are alive—how long? Tomorrow you too will be dust.
Conscious and unconscious—two forms of existence. Not two existences—two forms of the one existence. Therefore convertible, transformable. Consciousness can become unconscious; the unconscious can become conscious. Each day it is happening. Each day we do this: the inert, the unconscious we make into food, and within us it becomes conscious; and each day wastes are expelled and become inert. From here man becomes conscious; from there he becomes unconscious. From here he takes in the unconscious, and within he becomes conscious. Conscious and unconscious are not two different things.
Here great mistakes have happened. The atheist says only the unconscious is. But then he is in great difficulty: if only the unconscious is, how does consciousness arise?
Marx-like atheists are compelled to say: it is an epiphenomenon, a by-product. Consciousness is not a real thing—it is an event that arises when matter comes together. Not a substance—an event.
Charvaka has to say: human consciousness is like this: the betel seller makes pan, applies lime and catechu; when you chew it, a red color appears. That red is not in the lime alone, nor in the catechu alone, nor in the leaf alone. It arises from the combination. It is a result of the aggregate, a by-product, an epiphenomenon. As with alcohol: if you take separately the ingredients, no intoxication; together, intoxication.
So the atheist—whether Charvaka or Marx—their language differs a little, their difficulty is the same: consciousness is evident—how to explain it? They have only one way: say that from unconscious things consciousness somehow arises. But this is very unscientific. For a man like Marx, claiming to be scientific, it does not befit the mouth. Because that from which a thing arises must contain it in some hidden way; otherwise it cannot arise.
If the pan produces red, we accept that it was not present in each separately; yet that redness was hidden in all of them, and revealed on union—separately it could not be perceived. If we drink oxygen and hydrogen separately, thirst will not be quenched. There is no water in hydrogen, none in oxygen. But when combined, water is formed and thirst is quenched. From where did water come? It was in oxygen and hydrogen, but could be manifest only when both joined.
You were sitting alone in a room. I came into your room. We began to talk. This conversation did not fall from the sky; it was in me too, and in you too. But if you had talked alone, you would have been called mad; I came, now you are not called mad—the possibility of manifestation arose.
Whatever manifests is hidden in that from which it manifests. Therefore the claims of atheists—that consciousness arises out of matter though it was not and is not—are extremely unscientific. Yoga does not accept.
The theists, on the other hand, take the opposite stand. Their difficulty is the same—from the other end. They say: matter is not; the inert is not; all is Paramatma. Then the question arises: from where does all this which appears around us arise? Shankara says: it is maya, illusion; it is not. He says: it too is an epiphenomenon, a shadow-existence. It is not.
The same difficulty that besets the atheist besets the theist. The difficulty is: how will you explain the other? That too is. Then one has to search for circuitous logic. And such logic never proves anything.
Yoga says: both are. Therefore Yoga enters no circular arguments. It says: both are. And it also says: both are not two. Otherwise the trouble of joining two would arise—how to join? Both are two forms of one. Like my two hands—left and right. They appear two; they are not two for me. For you they appear two; for me one energy spreads through both. Although, amusingly, if I want I can make both hands fight! And yet both are the same energy.
Conscious and unconscious are two ends of the one existence. The conscious can become unconscious; the unconscious goes on becoming conscious. This is the third sutra of Yoga.
These sutras must be understood, because upon them the entire edifice of Yoga’s sadhana is raised.
Conscious–unconscious—science has agreed to this too. Now science uses a new word; let me share it with you.
New medicine no longer sees diseases as of only two kinds—physical and mental—as if mind is separate and body separate. Now medical science uses a new term: psychosomatic or somatopsychic. Medicine says: no disease is purely mental or purely physical; disease is psychosomatic—both ends are involved.
If your mind falls ill, your body falls ill. If your body falls ill, your mind falls ill. When we pour alcohol into you, we do not pour it into your mind. Alcohol goes into your stomach, into your liver, into your digestive system—not into your mind. But as soon as alcohol enters the body, the mind begins to babble nonsense. It should not speak; it begins to babble. Alcohol went into the body, yet the effect reached the mind. And when the mind is sick, anxious, unhappy, the body at once becomes dull, diseased. If disease is put into the mind, the body becomes diseased.
Ten or twelve years ago America had to pass a law: the Anti-Hypnotic Act—against hypnosis. Because a strange accident occurred in a small college hostel. Four boys were reading a book on hypnosis. It said: whatever the mind agrees to accept, becomes. The four decided to experiment. They laid their fifth friend down and gave suggestions of sleep as the book instructed. For ten minutes they darkened the room and all four said loudly: you are going unconscious, you are going unconscious...
In ten minutes the boy fell into deep sleep—unconscious. When they pricked his hand with a pin, he did not feel it. They put soil in his mouth and said: you are eating sweets—and he ate the soil with relish. Then they became more adventurous. They made him dance—he danced. They said: you have gone mad—he became mad. Lastly, they said: now you are dead—and the boy died.
Hence a law had to be made: no person can hypnotize another except with his consent, or with governmental consent, or for university research, or under a doctor’s supervision in a hospital. Not anyone can hypnotize anyone.
The boy actually died. Then they pleaded much: now become alive! But there was no listener; otherwise he would have revived. He had died. The event of 1952 shocked the world. When a fortune teller tells you that you will die on such-and-such date, you may indeed die—not because the fortune teller is right, but because if the idea settles in your mind, you may die. It is not that the astrologer is right; but if this thought settles deeply, death can happen. All kinds of diseases can be created by planting ideas; and all kinds can be affected toward healing by planting ideas.
At a man’s house there was a fire. He had been paralyzed for two years—could not get up. All treatments had been tried. In the middle of the night the house caught fire; all the family ran out. On reaching outside they remembered the old man with paralysis could not come. But then they saw the old man coming out—carrying his cash box! They were amazed, because the man could not even rise. When he reached the middle, they said: go on! He said: how can I go on? He fell then and there—the paralysis returned.
What happened? This man does not have bodily paralysis; he has mental paralysis. Paralysis has taken hold at the mind’s end; the body follows.
The reverse can also happen: if paralysis has taken hold of the body, and the mind refuses it, the body will find it hard to continue the paralysis. Therefore those with strong will can confront any disease; and those without will can be troubled by even false diseases.
Yoga says: within us body and mind are not two things. Within us conscious and unconscious are not two things. Within us there is one existence with two ends. Therefore you can be affected from either end.
In Tibet there is a practice called heat-yoga—Tummo. Hundreds of sadhus can sit naked on ice, and sweat trickles from their bodies. All this has been scientifically examined. Doctors have investigated and are in trouble: what is happening? A man sits naked on ice, snow is falling all around, icy winds are blowing—yet sweat flows from his body! What has happened?
He is applying the sutra of Yoga. He has refused, with his mind, to accept that it is snowing. With eyes closed he says: it is not snowing. With eyes closed he says: the sun is blazing and sunlight is pouring. With eyes closed he says: I am burning with heat. The body follows; it begins to sweat.
In the South there was a yogi—Brahmayogi. He demonstrated experiments at Calcutta University, Rangoon University, and Oxford. He would drink any poison and within half an hour expel it through urine. No poison mixed with his blood. All X-ray tests were performed. The puzzle deepened: what is the matter? He would only say: I know only this much—that I tell the mind I will not accept the poison. That is my only practice.
But after the experiment at Rangoon University he died—the poison entered the blood. His will worked only for half an hour. So the poison had to be expelled before thirty minutes. After that he too would fall into doubt that the poison might get absorbed. For thirty minutes he could keep his resolve strong; after that doubt would catch him too: perhaps the poison will mix. Doubt is strange. Even the man who kept poison out for half an hour was seized by doubt that the poison might catch him.
He left Rangoon University for his place by car; the car broke down on the way, and instead of reaching in thirty minutes he reached in forty-five—unconscious. Those fifteen minutes caused his death.
Hundreds of yogis have declared control over the flow of blood: cut any vein anywhere, and the blood will flow or stop by their command.
You can try a small experiment; it will be good. Count your pulse. Then sit for five minutes and keep thinking only this: my pulse is going faster, faster, faster... and after five minutes count again. You will find it faster. It can also be made slower. With longer practice it can even be stopped. The heartbeat too—down to the subtlest—can be stopped; the flow of blood can be stilled.
Body and mind are not two things; they are extensions of one thing, different wavelengths of one. Conscious and unconscious are one continuum.
All the experiments of Yoga stand on this sutra. Therefore Yoga holds: you can begin from anywhere. The journey can be begun from the body or from the mind. Disease, health, beauty, power, age—they are affected by body and by mind.
Bernard Shaw chose a village twenty miles from London for his grave, and a few days before death he went to live there. His friends asked: what is the reason for choosing this village? Bernard Shaw said: the reason is strange; if I tell you, you will laugh. Still there is no harm—laugh. I will tell you. One day I had come to this village for a walk. I went to the graveyard. On one grave I saw a stone. Seeing it, I decided I should live in this village. The stone read—on a man’s grave: This man was born in 1610 and in 1710 died very young. Bernard Shaw said: in a village whose people consider a hundred years a short life—if one wants to live long, he should live in that village.
That was his joke. Yet Bernard Shaw did live long. Was it because of that village? Hard to say. But that he chose that stone was certainly the choice of his mind; it was part of his aspiration to live long. That part can become a cause for longer life.
In countries where life span is short, it is not necessary to think that people die because the span is short. Because the span is short, our expectation of age also becomes short. We begin to grow old sooner, think of death sooner, decide that the time has come sooner. In countries where expectations are longer, no one decides quickly; the time has not come yet. If the idea of dying enters the mind early, results begin to arrive early. The mind agrees to die. If the mind does not agree, it can be prolonged for long.
The whole matter depends on this: our personality has two poles—conscious and unconscious. And the world also has two poles—conscious and unconscious. What we call matter is the world’s unconscious pole; what we call life is the world’s conscious pole. Between this total conscious and total unconscious there is no antagonism. They are interrelated.
I told you: put your hand on the pulse and it will change. Even when a doctor examines your pulse it changes; it is no longer what it was. Hence no doctor can ever measure your pulse exactly—his touch itself changes your observation and expectation. Immediately there is a change. If the doctor is a lady, the change will be a little greater! Your expectations, your mind, stir the nerves there. Therefore an intelligent doctor will subtract two or four counts and infer the right figure, because you may have increased two or four just now which were not there.
But our pulse is connected to us—so it is influenced. I am saying: even the outer world, the unconscious matter that appears to us, is as connected to our consciousness. Would the flowers of a gardener who loves them grow bigger? You will say: this is madness! But if gardeners themselves said so, we would call it madness. In Oxford University, in a small laboratory—Delabar Laboratory—experiments on plants have been conducted, and the results are startling.
A Christian mystic said: the seed I bless will bear bigger flowers. Many experiments were done. Seeds from one packet were sown in two pots. One pot was blessed by the mystic—standing before it, he prayed to God: let these seeds be large, let their flowers be large, let them sprout quickly. The other was not blessed. Scientists tried to keep both in identical conditions—same water, same sunlight, same fertilizer. Yet a great difficulty arose: the blessed pot had larger flowers! The blessed pot sprouted earlier! The blessed pot bore more flowers! The blessed pot’s flowers stayed longer! If this had happened with one or two pots, one might suspect trickery. It was repeated on many pots, and each time the same happened.
What could be the reason? Does the human consciousness influence the seeds too?
In truth there is no wall anywhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. What resounds in this heart reaches to the corners of the universe, and what resounds in any corner reaches into this heart. We are all together—interconnected.
Therefore the fourth sutra of Yoga—then I will speak of the remaining sutras tomorrow—the fourth sutra: in this world nothing is unrelated; everything is related; the world is a family. This world is a family. Here nothing is unrelated; everything is connected. Here nothing is broken. Here stone is connected with man, earth with moon and stars, moon and stars with our heartbeat, our thoughts with the waves of the oceans, the snows glittering on the peaks with the dreams moving within our minds. Nothing is broken here; everything is joined, everything is together. There is no way to be separate here, because there is no gap in between where things could fall apart. Brokenness is only our illusion.
Therefore the fourth sutra of Yoga says to you: energy is united; energy is a family. Neither the conscious is cut off from the unconscious, nor existence from non-existence; neither matter from mind, nor body from soul; neither Paramatma from earth, from nature. ‘Cut-off’ is a false word. All is joined, gathered, one. Even the words joined and gathered are misleading, because we use them for that which has been broken and then put together. Here it is one. Like one ocean with endless waves. Every wave is connected to every other wave. The wave that strikes the shore where you sit is connected to endless shores that you cannot even see. Everything is connected here.
The sun is one hundred million miles from earth. If the sun cools, we will all cool. You cannot say: what have we to do with a sun so far away? We will light our lamp at home—why worry! No—if the sun cools you will be cold. All your life-energy comes from the sun. But that sun is connected to other suns—to great suns. Scientists say that their count so far is nearly one hundred million suns. All are interrelated. And this count is not complete; it will never be complete—beyond it lies more, and more, and more. It is infinite.
In this infinite expanse all is connected. If a single flower blooms, it too is connected with us; if a pebble lies by the roadside, it too is connected with us. When this interrelatedness is understood—your pulse will be affected, yes—but even those things which never come into your thought can be affected.
Try a small experiment with a needle. Fill a glass with water. Spread a thin film of something oily over the surface—grease, a little ghee, or a few drops of oil—and float a fine pin on it. Then fix both your eyes upon the glass; do not blink for two minutes. Then say to the pin: turn left. You will be surprised—the pin turns left. Say: turn right. You will be surprised—it turns right. Say: stop—and it stops. It moves on your signal.
The needle—because your resolve is still small. Otherwise even a mountain could be moved. The needle is for practice. But if the needle moves, there is no barrier left to the mountain’s moving. What is the difference between a needle and a mountain? Quantitative. No difference in principle.
Yoga says: we are all connected. Therefore Yoga says: when one person thinks an evil thought, people nearby begin to become evil immediately. No need to express the thought. When one person thinks a good thought, waves of goodness begin to spread around. No need to express it. Suddenly before some person you feel peace descends; before another you feel restlessness spreads. Passing through some street, the mind feels light; through another, it feels heavy. You sit in a home and feel fear grips you. You sit in another and feel your heart bloom. These are effects of waves coming from all around. They surround you and touch you.
It is not only that they touch you—you too are touching, you too are sending waves. This is happening all the time. Amidst this vastness we too are a cluster of energy. Dynamic centers of energy are all around. The destiny of this whole world is the collected destiny of us all.
The meaning of this fourth sutra of Yoga is: to see oneself as separate is madness; to think oneself separate is foolishness; to live as if separate is to carry a load on your own head by your own hand.
A small story, then I will complete today’s talk. Tomorrow I will speak of the next sutras.
I have heard: a yogi boarded a train—a fakir. He sat in a third-class compartment. He placed his box on his head, his bedding on the box, and his umbrella on top. People nearby said: what are you doing? Put the luggage down and sit at ease. The yogi said: I think I have bought a ticket only for myself, so putting more weight on the train would be unethical. Therefore I am keeping the weight on my head. People said: you have gone mad! Whether you keep it on your head or put it down, the weight will be on the train. Why add unnecessary weight to your head? Put it down and rest. The fakir said: I thought the people in this compartment were ignorant—here are the wise. He put the weight down. People said: we don’t understand. The fakir said: in life I have seen everyone carrying on his head the weight which could have been left to God. I have seen everyone walking heavy with sorrows which could be left to the moon and the stars, which the winds would carry away. But I have seen everyone so full of sadness and anxiety—weights that flowers could have lifted, breezes could have lifted, the moon and stars could have lifted, the whole universe could have borne. Yet each person carries his own load. So I thought—in this compartment you might be annoyed, so I placed it above. But you are wise. They said: in this compartment we may be wise; but as far as life’s train is concerned, there we keep our load on our own heads. They said: we have to keep it on our heads—on whose head other than ours can we put it?
Yoga says: do not put your load on anyone’s head. There is no load on anyone’s head at all. Only those heads become burdened who do not know this truth—that life is interconnected, life is together. Breath depends on the winds. The warmth of prana depends on the stars, on the suns. Life’s being depends on the order of creation. Death is the other aspect of birth. All this is happening. We pick it all up and place it on our heads.
Yoga says: if we can see that in the great net we are nothing but a tiny filament...
Two straws were being carried by a river. The current was strong. One straw tried to fight the current, laying itself crosswise to become a dam. It made no difference; it kept being carried—after all, it was a straw. The river did not even know a straw had decided to dam it. How would the river know someone was fighting? The river rushed toward the ocean. The straw was swept along as it struggled. Another straw with it had yielded itself straight to the current. It thought: let me cooperate with the river. It thought: how swiftly the river flows with my support! It made no difference either; the river got no help from straws. The river was unaffected by both—the fighter and the helper. But to the straws it made a difference. The one fighting was dying unnecessarily; the one flowing was dancing joyously upon the waves. Both were being carried—one fighting, dying, anxious; one ecstatic and thrilled.
But Yoga says: be neither straw, because both delusions are related to each other. Know that the river flows; it is not for you to make it flow, nor to stop it. Become a part of the river. Do not remain a straw; become a wave. Then you will become weightless—without burden. No weight will remain.
The fourth sutra: the whole world is a flux of energy. In it we are no more than a single wave. Everything is connected. Therefore what happens here spreads everywhere, and what happens everywhere condenses here.
Whatever is happening in the world—we are participants, partners; there is no separateness. If somewhere there is a thief, I am responsible. Surely my evils too must have helped in making him a thief. If somewhere there is a murderer, I am responsible. If somewhere there is a saint, I am responsible too. Which means: the very notion of responsibility becomes irrelevant—whatever is happening anywhere, I am a participant. Then there is no blame, no guilt—and we are not alone.
In the West a new word has taken hold: alienation—aloneness, strangerhood. Each person has become a stranger. Everyone feels: I am alone, there is no companion.
Once husbands had the illusion that the wife is a companion; wives had the illusion the husband is a companion. Now all illusions are breaking. The wife is no longer sure the husband is a companion; the husband is no longer sure the wife is a companion. Even while loving, he is not sure whether in his mind he is not filling out divorce papers. Nothing is certain. The son is not sure of the father. The father is not sure that the sons will stay. Nothing is sure. Everything uncertain. Each person has become alone—alienated from all. Hence the heavy anxiety, the burden—each is being crushed under mountains. Each is going mad. The same is happening here too.
Yoga says: it is foolishness. Your aloneness is your misunderstanding. This world is together. The day a person understands that he is together with all, that day all burdens of anxiety vanish. That day he becomes free within. All bonds drop.
This is the fourth sutra. I will speak to you of a few more sutras each day. Whatever questions you have in this connection, give them to me in writing tomorrow. I will discuss them together with tomorrow’s talk. Each day, whatever your questions, keep writing them. A question has been asked about meditation; I will speak about it in the morning session of meditation.
One more word, then you will watch a picture of meditation. Those friends who wish to come in the morning for meditation—and I would wish that all should come—because the sutras of Yoga that I am speaking, if they remain only intellectual, if you do not experiment, if you do not enter—then coming in the morning will be necessary. In the evening I will speak to you, and in the morning we will experiment upon the same. So in the evening understand, and in the morning do—then your understanding will be complete. Otherwise understanding alone remains half—half understanding is worse than non-understanding.
You have listened to my words with such love; I am obliged. In the end I bow to the Paramatma seated within you all—please accept my pranam.