Post by Owain on Jul 9, 2023 13:50:01 GMT
Even from this state, one must still dismiss the memory of past incarnations: John or Shirley the American homeowner, the banker, the giver to charities—what to speak of John the pirate, Shirley the shoplifter, and the countless lifetimes we have all lived worldly lives in both male and female bodies—and to see all these as only God acting those parts through our physical vehicles. Only when we have released all those memories into God can we pass beyond the state of jivan mukta (freed while living), and pass on to the state of complete liberation, moksha. Needless to say, this final state is reached by very few people living this earthly existence.
An avatar is one who has attained moksha, but then comes back to earth as a pure incarnation of God. Among such great souls, possessed of the divine power to liberate as many as come to them with faith and devotion, may be counted humanity’s noteworthy saviors: Jesus Christ, Buddha, Krishna, Ramakrishna, and Paramhansa Yogananda, and many others.
What did Patanjali mean in this aphorism by the word, chitta? This word has been variously translated in editions of the Yoga Sutras as “mind-stuff” and “lower aspects of mind” (the subconscious?). What the translators have meant by “mind-stuff” is perplexing. To me, it means nothing! And by “lower aspects of mind” I suppose they’ve meant the subconscious, but this definition seems inadequate, because the mind alone is a vague concept, and Patanjali always took pains to be precise.
As Yogananda pointed out, the scriptures list four aspects of human consciousness: mon, buddhi, ahankara, and chitta: mind, intellect, ego, and feeling.
Many years ago, when Yogananda was a young man, he asked the Maharaja of Kasimbazar to donate property for the foundation of a school for boys, where he wanted to provide an all-round education, centered in spiritual truth. The maharaja, wanting to ascertain whether this young man had the necessary credentials, summoned a group of pundits (men learned in the scriptures) to grill Yogananda on the extent of his spiritual knowledge. Yogananda described the scene to us many years later:
“I could see them poised for a spiritual bullfight! Well, my own knowledge is not based on intellectual knowledge. It is based on inner realization—on true wisdom. I therefore said to them at the outset, ‘Let us speak not from intellectual knowledge, but only from truths that we ourselves have realized.
“‘We all know,’ I continued, ‘that the scriptures speak of four aspects of human awareness: mon (mind), buddhi (intellect), ahankara (ego), and chitta (feeling). We have read also that each of these aspects has its respective center in the body, but no scripture tells us where in the body those centers are located. Can you tell me, from your own inner perception, where they are?’
“Well, they were completely at a loss. Having no scripture to fall back on, they could only gape.
“I then told them, ‘Mon (mind) is centered in the top of the head. Buddhi (intellect) is centered between the eyebrows. Ahankara (ego) is centered in the medulla oblongata. And chitta (feeling) is centered in the heart.’
“I proceeded to justify my explanation. ‘It is,’ I said, ‘like a horse reflected in a mirror. Mind is that mirror, which, in itself, is blind. That is why Dhritarashtra, in the Mahabharata, is also represented as blind. He represents the blind mind. Intellect steps in then and says, “That’s a horse.” The intellect does not, in itself, bind us to delusion. Intellect, in the Mahabharata, is symbolized as Sanjaya, who relates to Dhritarashtra the events taking place on the battlefield. Ego then steps in and declares, “That’s my horse!” Ego, in the Mahabharata, is symbolized by Bhishma. Some delusion has stepped into the picture now, but even so, the thought, “I” and “mine” can also be impersonal.’”
Chitta is our faculty of feeling. In its outward aspect, it is Karna (attachment). But in its upward aspect it is, as told of Karna in the story itself, brother to the Pandavas, or the upward-drawing tendencies in man. Self-control, devotion, and calmness especially are those qualities which draw us up toward union with God. Both attachment and devotion are centered in the heart. But let us get back to the location in the body where each of the aspects of consciousness is centered.
Mind is centered at the top of the head. There is less physical corroboration for this statement; we have to take it somewhat on faith. The intellect, however, demonstrably has its center between the eyebrows. When we reason or think deeply, we automatically knit our eyebrows.
Again, when we refer our thoughts, feelings, and actions back to our egos, thinking, “I did that! I’m the one who is hurt, or flattered, or frustrated,” we automatically draw our heads back. Proud people are often described as looking down their noses at others. Rock singers tend even to toss their heads from side to side, as if shouting to all, “Look at me!”
And when people are strongly affected emotionally, it is of their hearts they are specially aware. When a woman, for example (women are usually more emotional than men), feels suddenly fearful, worried, or excited, she will often clutch her breast just over the heart.
Thus, the physical centers for each aspect of consciousness are located at the top of the head (for mon); between the eyebrows (for buddi, or intellect); at the lower part of the brain in the medulla oblongata, (for ahankara, or ego); and in the region of the heart (for chitta, the feeling quality).
When Yogananda gave this explanation, the pundits admitted themselves vanquished.
The point here, however, is that chitta signifies feeling. When, in seeing that horse, your feelings declare, “How happy I am to see my horse!”, that is when delusion grips you. The main—indeed, the only important thing on the spiritual path is to calm the emotions. Calm feeling is love, which unites the soul with God. Restless or agitated feelings, on the other hand—our emotions—disrupt our vision and prevent us from achieving full acceptance that in our true reality we are manifestations of the eternal stillness of God.
Yoga, then, means to calm these vortices of feeling. Feeling it is which forms the whirlpools of desire and attachment into which we draw those desires and attachments to ourselves with the thought, “I want this. I define myself by that. I am that!” Herein lies the value of the Kriya Yoga taught by Lahiri Mahasaya of Benares. Kriya Yoga dissolves those vrittis, and directs their energy upward toward the spiritual eye in the forehead.
Yoga is the neutralization of every one of those little vortices.
My Guru once said to me, “Every desire must be neutralized.” “Every single desire?” I asked him. “Even little desires, such as for an ice cream cone?”
“Oh, yes!” he replied emphatically.
But on another occasion I asked him to help me overcome attachment to good food. “Don’t bother about those little things,” he replied reassuringly. “When ecstasy comes, everything goes.”
The important thing, in other words, is not so much to concentrate, in a negative way, on all the desires and attachments we have to overcome. The major ones, yes, but the main thing is to focus on giving all our heart’s devotion to the Lord. As a strong river current draws everything along with it, so strong devotion will sweep every little desire upward, toward the brain.
We see then that the definition of yoga is the conquest of every desire and every attachment, by releasing their energy that it may flow upward unidirectionally toward God.
The teaching of the Bhagavad Gita (an excerpt from the Mahabarata) is that, in the battle between our higher and our lower natures, the negative emotions are not destroyed: they are only transformed into positive feelings—into love, enthusiasm for what is true, and a desire to share kindly with all.
To conclude, God is Satchidananda (ever-existing, ever-conscious, ever-new bliss); divine love is bliss in motion; and chitta is bliss “watered down” to the level of human feeling. The “chitta vritti” are the countless little eddies formed by people’s expectations of happiness in outwardness. Their desires and attachments are endless. As Yogananda put it, “Desires, forever gratified, never satisfied.”
1-3 | Then, (spiritually free), the sage abides (tranquilly) in his inner Self.
Modern living leads us to confuse fulfillment with excitement. From excitement, however, ensues tension. And tension causes all happiness to vanish. The thrill of the imaginary happiness that people equate with excitement shatters their nerves, and fills them with suppressed fears that emerge with the exhaustion that follows after their emotional jumping up and down. “Kiss me as though this were the last time ever,” goes a popular song in Mexico. And then the desperate affirmation, also from a Mexican song: “Just this once; never again.” (“Besame mucho, como si fuera esta noche la ultima vez.” And, “Una vez, nada mas.”)
Oh, yeah?
People grasp at happiness, then wonder why it slips from their grasp the very moment they clutch at it.
Calmness is the only possible foundation for any true, lasting fulfillment and happiness. Calmness is possible only when the ego stops shouting for attention. The most important thing on the spiritual path is to silence the demands of ego. Therefore, in my own life there are two things I simply refuse to do: to pray for myself; and to defend myself.
An avatar is one who has attained moksha, but then comes back to earth as a pure incarnation of God. Among such great souls, possessed of the divine power to liberate as many as come to them with faith and devotion, may be counted humanity’s noteworthy saviors: Jesus Christ, Buddha, Krishna, Ramakrishna, and Paramhansa Yogananda, and many others.
What did Patanjali mean in this aphorism by the word, chitta? This word has been variously translated in editions of the Yoga Sutras as “mind-stuff” and “lower aspects of mind” (the subconscious?). What the translators have meant by “mind-stuff” is perplexing. To me, it means nothing! And by “lower aspects of mind” I suppose they’ve meant the subconscious, but this definition seems inadequate, because the mind alone is a vague concept, and Patanjali always took pains to be precise.
As Yogananda pointed out, the scriptures list four aspects of human consciousness: mon, buddhi, ahankara, and chitta: mind, intellect, ego, and feeling.
Many years ago, when Yogananda was a young man, he asked the Maharaja of Kasimbazar to donate property for the foundation of a school for boys, where he wanted to provide an all-round education, centered in spiritual truth. The maharaja, wanting to ascertain whether this young man had the necessary credentials, summoned a group of pundits (men learned in the scriptures) to grill Yogananda on the extent of his spiritual knowledge. Yogananda described the scene to us many years later:
“I could see them poised for a spiritual bullfight! Well, my own knowledge is not based on intellectual knowledge. It is based on inner realization—on true wisdom. I therefore said to them at the outset, ‘Let us speak not from intellectual knowledge, but only from truths that we ourselves have realized.
“‘We all know,’ I continued, ‘that the scriptures speak of four aspects of human awareness: mon (mind), buddhi (intellect), ahankara (ego), and chitta (feeling). We have read also that each of these aspects has its respective center in the body, but no scripture tells us where in the body those centers are located. Can you tell me, from your own inner perception, where they are?’
“Well, they were completely at a loss. Having no scripture to fall back on, they could only gape.
“I then told them, ‘Mon (mind) is centered in the top of the head. Buddhi (intellect) is centered between the eyebrows. Ahankara (ego) is centered in the medulla oblongata. And chitta (feeling) is centered in the heart.’
“I proceeded to justify my explanation. ‘It is,’ I said, ‘like a horse reflected in a mirror. Mind is that mirror, which, in itself, is blind. That is why Dhritarashtra, in the Mahabharata, is also represented as blind. He represents the blind mind. Intellect steps in then and says, “That’s a horse.” The intellect does not, in itself, bind us to delusion. Intellect, in the Mahabharata, is symbolized as Sanjaya, who relates to Dhritarashtra the events taking place on the battlefield. Ego then steps in and declares, “That’s my horse!” Ego, in the Mahabharata, is symbolized by Bhishma. Some delusion has stepped into the picture now, but even so, the thought, “I” and “mine” can also be impersonal.’”
Chitta is our faculty of feeling. In its outward aspect, it is Karna (attachment). But in its upward aspect it is, as told of Karna in the story itself, brother to the Pandavas, or the upward-drawing tendencies in man. Self-control, devotion, and calmness especially are those qualities which draw us up toward union with God. Both attachment and devotion are centered in the heart. But let us get back to the location in the body where each of the aspects of consciousness is centered.
Mind is centered at the top of the head. There is less physical corroboration for this statement; we have to take it somewhat on faith. The intellect, however, demonstrably has its center between the eyebrows. When we reason or think deeply, we automatically knit our eyebrows.
Again, when we refer our thoughts, feelings, and actions back to our egos, thinking, “I did that! I’m the one who is hurt, or flattered, or frustrated,” we automatically draw our heads back. Proud people are often described as looking down their noses at others. Rock singers tend even to toss their heads from side to side, as if shouting to all, “Look at me!”
And when people are strongly affected emotionally, it is of their hearts they are specially aware. When a woman, for example (women are usually more emotional than men), feels suddenly fearful, worried, or excited, she will often clutch her breast just over the heart.
Thus, the physical centers for each aspect of consciousness are located at the top of the head (for mon); between the eyebrows (for buddi, or intellect); at the lower part of the brain in the medulla oblongata, (for ahankara, or ego); and in the region of the heart (for chitta, the feeling quality).
When Yogananda gave this explanation, the pundits admitted themselves vanquished.
The point here, however, is that chitta signifies feeling. When, in seeing that horse, your feelings declare, “How happy I am to see my horse!”, that is when delusion grips you. The main—indeed, the only important thing on the spiritual path is to calm the emotions. Calm feeling is love, which unites the soul with God. Restless or agitated feelings, on the other hand—our emotions—disrupt our vision and prevent us from achieving full acceptance that in our true reality we are manifestations of the eternal stillness of God.
Yoga, then, means to calm these vortices of feeling. Feeling it is which forms the whirlpools of desire and attachment into which we draw those desires and attachments to ourselves with the thought, “I want this. I define myself by that. I am that!” Herein lies the value of the Kriya Yoga taught by Lahiri Mahasaya of Benares. Kriya Yoga dissolves those vrittis, and directs their energy upward toward the spiritual eye in the forehead.
Yoga is the neutralization of every one of those little vortices.
My Guru once said to me, “Every desire must be neutralized.” “Every single desire?” I asked him. “Even little desires, such as for an ice cream cone?”
“Oh, yes!” he replied emphatically.
But on another occasion I asked him to help me overcome attachment to good food. “Don’t bother about those little things,” he replied reassuringly. “When ecstasy comes, everything goes.”
The important thing, in other words, is not so much to concentrate, in a negative way, on all the desires and attachments we have to overcome. The major ones, yes, but the main thing is to focus on giving all our heart’s devotion to the Lord. As a strong river current draws everything along with it, so strong devotion will sweep every little desire upward, toward the brain.
We see then that the definition of yoga is the conquest of every desire and every attachment, by releasing their energy that it may flow upward unidirectionally toward God.
The teaching of the Bhagavad Gita (an excerpt from the Mahabarata) is that, in the battle between our higher and our lower natures, the negative emotions are not destroyed: they are only transformed into positive feelings—into love, enthusiasm for what is true, and a desire to share kindly with all.
To conclude, God is Satchidananda (ever-existing, ever-conscious, ever-new bliss); divine love is bliss in motion; and chitta is bliss “watered down” to the level of human feeling. The “chitta vritti” are the countless little eddies formed by people’s expectations of happiness in outwardness. Their desires and attachments are endless. As Yogananda put it, “Desires, forever gratified, never satisfied.”
1-3 | Then, (spiritually free), the sage abides (tranquilly) in his inner Self.
Modern living leads us to confuse fulfillment with excitement. From excitement, however, ensues tension. And tension causes all happiness to vanish. The thrill of the imaginary happiness that people equate with excitement shatters their nerves, and fills them with suppressed fears that emerge with the exhaustion that follows after their emotional jumping up and down. “Kiss me as though this were the last time ever,” goes a popular song in Mexico. And then the desperate affirmation, also from a Mexican song: “Just this once; never again.” (“Besame mucho, como si fuera esta noche la ultima vez.” And, “Una vez, nada mas.”)
Oh, yeah?
People grasp at happiness, then wonder why it slips from their grasp the very moment they clutch at it.
Calmness is the only possible foundation for any true, lasting fulfillment and happiness. Calmness is possible only when the ego stops shouting for attention. The most important thing on the spiritual path is to silence the demands of ego. Therefore, in my own life there are two things I simply refuse to do: to pray for myself; and to defend myself.