Yog Naye Aayam #6

There is no question of harm. If you have already been doing something and it is giving you momentum, then continue—more intensely. There will be only benefit. On the path to the divine, in any case, there is no harm.

It can continue from three weeks to three months. Those who do the practice rightly will see the crying, laughing, and shouting dissolve within three weeks, and from the first stage they will enter directly into the fourth; the two middle stages will drop on their own. Those who don’t do it properly, who proceed slowly, may take anywhere from three weeks to three months.

But this is not something that goes on forever; once the mind’s impurities fall away, it dissolves by itself. The length of time depends on how intensely you let the impurities drop. If you do the practice properly for three months, generally all this will settle within that time. Then you will take one or two deep breaths and immediately enter the fourth stage. But this will happen only if you fully complete the two middle stages. If you hold back even a little, it can take years. The whole thing is to haul it up from within and throw it out.

In the beginning it will—one day, two days. Go yourself in advance and request them: “For an hour I will be doing this; please forgive me for that hour.” Tell them first, before they come to ask you what you are doing.

And because this experiment is altogether new, it will take a little time. Right now, if someone next door starts singing hymns loudly, no one feels troubled. If someone chants “Ram-Ram” at the top of his voice, you assume he is meditating. Within a year or two, when hundreds of thousands across the country are doing this, people will understand too that it is meditation. Those who begin now will face a little inconvenience. With anything new there is some initial friction. But it is a matter of a day or two. Even now thousands have begun across the country. For a day or two people around them are curious, then they forget.

And within three weeks the changes that begin to appear in your personality will be visible to them as well; your crying and shouting will not be all they see. If you do the experiment sincerely, your neighbors will not be able to resist it for long either—the experiment will begin to catch hold of them.

So don’t take your crying and shouting as a great nuisance. It will even be beneficial. When nearby people come and ask, explain the whole meditation to them—and invite them: “Sit with me tomorrow.”

One more question is being asked daily; let me say a little about it. Recently, in the Manali camp, twenty people entered a new form of sannyas. Daily I’m asked: What is that sannyas? Let me tell you.

A few points, briefly. First, the way sannyas has existed in the world until now has no chance of surviving into the future. It will not survive. In Soviet Russia, to be a sannyasi is not possible today. In China it is no longer possible. And wherever socialism becomes influential, sannyas will become impossible. Wherever the idea takes root that one who does nothing has no right to eat, there sannyas will be in difficulty.

In the coming fifty years many sannyas traditions will simply disappear. China had a great Buddhist monastic tradition—it has vanished. Lamas are disappearing from Tibet; they cannot survive. In Russia too there was a very old tradition of Christian ascetics—it has been destroyed. And it is difficult to survive anywhere in the world.

Therefore, in my view, such a precious flower as sannyas should not be destroyed. The institution of sannyas may pass away, but sannyas itself should not. There is only one way to save it: let the sannyasi not run away from life; let him be a sannyasi in the midst of life. Sit in the shop, do labor, work in the office; do not flee. Let his livelihood not depend upon society. Wherever he is, as he is, let him become a sannyasi there. So these twenty sannyasis have been oriented in this direction: they will work in their offices, teach in their schools, sit in their shops—and live the life of a sannyasi.

This will have a twofold result. First, the sannyasi will not appear exploitative; it won’t seem as if he is dependent upon anyone. The sannyasi will benefit too, because a monasticism that depends on society becomes enslaved—whether we notice it or not. It begins to live in bondage to society. And those to whom we give bread—we also buy their soul. A sannyasi ought, by nature, to be a rebel; but he often cannot be, because he must spend his time in servitude to those who feed him. He keeps saying what is pleasing to you, because you give him bread.

Sannyas is a revolutionary phenomenon. For that, it is essential that the person, inwardly and economically, be dependent on himself.

So my intent is to take sannyas into every home.

Its second, deeper consequence is this: when a sannyasi runs away from home, the benefit the world should receive from him does not happen. When the good leave the world, the world falls into the hands of the bad. This has done harm. I say that if the flower of goodness blossoms in someone’s life, he should sit right in the marketplace so that its fragrance begins to spread there. Otherwise he will run away, and those who spread stench will remain firmly seated.

So let the sannyasi be in every home—he may change his outer dress; he may turn all his energies Godward; but let him not run away. Rather, the work of the house he thought he was doing until yesterday—now, as an instrument of the Divine, let him continue to do that work. Let him not abandon wife, nor children, nor home. Let him quietly do all this work as the work of God. Let him cease to be the doer—be only a witness.

Through such a process of sannyas, I think, first, millions will become interested. Those who could never even consider leaving home will also taste the joy of sannyas. And life will be enlivened. If sannyasis begin to be available on the streets, in the markets, in the houses, in the offices—their clothing, their mindfulness, their very atmosphere, their conduct—will influence all of life.

In this light, those who keep asking—if you are interested—meet me separately today from three to four, if you have the sense that the possibility of sannyas should arise in your life.

I have added two or three more points to this sannyas. First, I have called it Periodical Renunciation—time-bound sannyas.

I believe no one should take decisions for a whole lifetime. You decide today; six months later you may feel it was a mistake. Then there should be a way to return. Otherwise sannyas can become a burden. Once we give a man sannyas, we insist that he remain a sannyasi for life. Perhaps after a year he feels it was a mistake. Then he should have the right to return—without condemnation.

Therefore this sannyas of mine is periodical. Whenever you wish, you can quietly return. There will be no bondage on you.

In Thailand and Burma such sannyas is practiced, and it has made a difference in their lives. Almost everyone takes sannyas at least once for a short period. If a man has two months free in a year, he takes sannyas for two months—lives like a sannyasi for two months, then returns to his home world. The man is changed. After two months as a sannyasi, he cannot be the same as before; everything inside is altered. Then after a year or two, if it suits him, he again takes sannyas for two months.

So I have added a second direction: those who wish to take sannyas for a limited time can do so as an experiment. If their joy grows, extend the time. If they feel it is not for them, quietly return.

This brings twofold benefits. Sannyas will not become a bondage. Sannyas is freedom; it should not become a chain. At present our sannyasi becomes a bound prisoner. And secondly—sannyas will not be a bondage, one—and two, sannyas will become available to everyone, even if only for a short time. And if in a seventy-year life a man has become a sannyasi even five times for two months each, at the time of death he will be a different man; he cannot be the same. The maximum number of people will get the chance to be sannyasis; the maximum will be able to taste the juice and joy of sannyas. And I believe that one who goes into sannyas once will not return. That non-return should not be by rule; it should be by the joy of sannyas. But the freedom to return must remain intact.

It would not be appropriate to say more on this now. Friends who are inclined toward sannyas may meet me from three to four in the afternoon.

There may be ten or so new friends—so let me repeat the process for you in two minutes. Then we will sit for the meditation experiment.

This meditation is an experiment in resolve, in willpower. The result will be in exact proportion to the totality of your resolve. If you save even an inch of yourself, there will be no result. You will have to jump in totally. It cannot be done with holding back. And the process is such that you can jump in totally; it is not difficult.

It has three stages.

1) In the first stage you have to breathe intensely for ten minutes—increasing it, speeding it up. Breathe in such a way that nothing else remains in your memory—only the breath. For ten minutes forget the whole world. Whoever breathes powerfully will forget. Only the process of breathing will remain in your awareness. Pour all your energy into the breath moving in and out.

2) The second ten minutes are for catharsis—cleansing. For these ten minutes, dance, jump, scream, cry, laugh—whatever begins to arise in you, do it with your whole strength. For the few friends to whom nothing comes by itself—start anything that occurs to you: begin dancing, begin shouting. And don’t try—just begin. Yesterday two or three friends came and said, “We try, but it doesn’t happen.” There is no need to try. Do you need an effort to start hopping? Just start. Don’t worry about effort. The moment you begin, the blockage will break and it will become natural. In a day or two you will find it starts coming on its own. Many repressions and drives have accumulated in the mind; they must fall away.

Energy will be born within; the whole body will become electrified, begin to vibrate. Those first ten minutes of deep breathing are precisely to awaken that energy—Kundalini will awaken.

Then in the second ten minutes we work to drop the mind’s impurities so that nothing remains to obstruct Kundalini’s path: all blocks are set aside, the journey can move straight upward, the mind’s diseases fall away. Otherwise the disorders of the mind absorb the energy awakened by Kundalini; it enters into those disorders. Hence catharsis is necessary—throw all the garbage out.

3) In the third stage, the purified energy of Kundalini is to be transformed into inquiry. For ten minutes ask, “Who am I?”

Today is the last day, so do not ask in the mind. For the full ten minutes, with your whole strength, ask loudly, shouting. Ask so powerfully that you have no scope to think of anything else—that no other thoughts, no other world exists. Just “Who am I? Who am I?”—dive into it. If for some, asking in Marathi is more convenient than in Hindi, ask in Marathi—that is not the issue. Ask in the very language in which your heart has depth. For ten minutes ask with your total energy. In these thirty minutes exhaust yourself completely. Do not save or hold back even a little.

And in the last ten minutes, wait in silence—silent awaiting. Those ten minutes are the real ones; the first thirty are preparation. In those ten minutes, deep peace, bliss, deep light—and many other kinds of experiences—will begin to happen.

If you wish, make groups of five or ten friends and gather somewhere to do this together; then the individual difficulties will not arise. Any five or ten friends can gather in one house and do the experiment there. Do it together for twenty-one days. Then sit and begin doing it alone at home.

The shouting and crying will gradually lessen, and silence will increase. In three months, a continuous stream of peace and bliss will begin to flow within you. And the Divine will begin to be manifest all around—not that you will find Him standing somewhere, but whatever you see will begin to appear as the very form of the Divine.

Now let us stand for the experiment. Friends who wish to do it sitting may come behind me.