Mindfulness

I received several warnings from devotee friends about coming here to Rishikesh, to stay in a "Mayavadi" ashram. We are generally very protective of our faith, down to its most arcane details, and the idea that it could be challenged is fearful. Over the years, I suppose my faith has suffered as many challenges as anyone's faith ever could have, and this may have inoculated me to the fear of Mayavada. Whether that is good or not remains to be seen.

Certainly I am using the opportunity given me here to look into yoga philosophy a little more seriously than I have in the past, but not with a view to "defeat" it. As a matter of fact, the "defeating" mode is not highly approved in the Gita.

The other night, I had supper with Swami Veda along with a number of his close disciples. The topics discussed were many. One thing that he said, perhaps in relation to the loss of innocence, was that it took him a long time to realize that not everyone was engaged in a search for God. I said I still found it hard to believe. He laughed and said, "You are young yet. Wait till you are my age!"

I mentioned the Guardian discussion page, which is populated mostly by enlightened, non-religious, and even virulently anti-religious people. And yet there are regular columns by apparently masochistic defenders of the various faiths and of religion in general. I opined that I often found myself siding with the atheists and agnostics in many of their arguments, but that I felt this was because religion also is subject to modes of nature and not always and necessarily a positive influence. Swamiji said that he once wrote a book called God. When he showed it to his guru, Swami Rama, he praised it effusively. Six months later, however, Swami Rama came out with a book of his own called Enlightenment Without God.

Of course, I am at the point where almost everything is negotiable except for the ultimate theistic nature of the Absolute Truth, which of course entails a great many other things, too. But in order to understand the transcendental nature of that truth, there is a critique of unenlightened theism that needs to be adopted. The simplistic Christian or Puranic statements that make the performance of external rituals or even inner conversion as synonymous with the highest attainments of spiritual perfection has the disastrous effect of making people think that kanishtha religion is somehow equal to uttama religion.

The abovementioned verses from the Gita seem relevant:


सर्वभूतेषु येनैकं भावमव्ययमीक्षते।
अविभक्तं विभक्तेषु तज् ज्ञानं विद्धि सात्त्विकम्॥२०॥
पृथक्त्वेन तु यज् ज्ञानं नानाभावान् पृथग्विधान्।
वेत्ति सर्वेषु भूतेषु तज् ज्ञानं विद्धि राजसम्॥२१॥
यत् तु कृत्स्नवदेकस्मिन् कार्ये सक्तम् अहैतुकम्।
अतत्त्वार्थवदल्पं च तत् तामसमुदाहृतम्॥२२॥

Knowledge in the mode of goodness is that which sees a single existence present in all things, undivided even where they are divided. Knowledge in the mode of passion is that which knows through their differences the distinct nature of the various spearated existences in all things. Knowledge in the mode of ignorance is incomplete and limited, being needlessly attached to only one effect as though it were everything.

Here is a comment on the above from Swami Veda's introduction to his translation of the Yoga-sutras:

One [approach to Indian philosophy] is that of a pedant bound to one of many philosophical schools who refutes the views of all others and challenges them to prove theirs right and his wrong. Most philosophers of the traditional schools fall into this category, having debated with all other schools for thousands of years. Modern Western and westernized Eastern scholars follow this trend and study each school of Indina philosophy in isolation. It is not intended here to engage in a dispute with them, because the separate schools of Indian philosophy have indeed dominated the philosophical arena for these millennia, each possessing its own closed system of internally consistent values, doctrines and logical development (pratitantra-siddhanta). However, according to Bhagavad-gita 18.22, this approach is darkened knowledge (tamasic jnana).

Another approach is the way of the savant whose primary interest is not in the logical categories only, but who seeks that wisdom from which all logic begins and to which it must ultimately lead. This is the way of reconciliation and resolution of conflicts (samAdhAna), which eventually clears the pathway to samadhi. Such a savant refuses to remain bound within a square or a cube. He must understand the internally consistent logic of the system within a given cube, no doubt, but he must also observe where the external walls of one cube touch those of another; he must then enter the other cube and understand the internally consistent logic of that cube also. Thus, when he has looked at all the interconnected cubes, he sees the whole picture which is based on one or more common principles shared by all (sarva-tantra-siddhanta). This is the way of active knowledge (rajasic jnana) as defined in Gita 18.21.

Vastly improved on the way of that wisdom seeking savant is the way of the wise man, a person of intuitive vision and inspiration, the yogi, who by first looking at the grand pattern sees all the squares and cubes, as well as the spirals, circles and other patterns. By understanding the grand pattern, the little geometric shapes and forms are fully and effortlessly understood. The Bhagavad-gita 18.20 says this is the way of pure, refined and luminous knowledge (sattvic jnana)

A Vaishnava theist might be anywhere on this spectrum. The theistic perspective has to accommodate the non-dual perspective, or it does not achieve that mysterious realm of achintya-bhedabheda.

I asked Swamiji about his affinity for East-Asian culture, which is reflected in the numerous artworks--paintings and statues--from Korea, China and Japan. He answered that he felt more at home there than in India, and in general he feels that people who come from Buddhistic-based cultures are more mindful than in India, where people are in a much more rajasic frame of consciousness.

Last night, again, Swamiji spoke to all the residents of the ashram in a general meeting. About two weeks ago, he talked to the second-year Gurukula students and gave them something of an improptu test about how to teach various yoga postures, diaphragmatic breathing, etc., and was not pleased with the results. So he ordained a ten day teacher training intensive to get everyone properly conscious of the basics.

Some Hindi-speaking student asked him what "centering" meant, as English-speaking instructors were always using the term, so last night Swamiji spoke on the subject of centering, which he related to the concept of mindfulness.

A yoga teacher, in order to be effective, he said, should be centered. Centering begins, he says by placing oneself in the ground of one's identity, whatever that happens to be. In general, as an aside, Swamiji usually talks about hatha yoga as a practice meant for people in the bodily consciousness and meant to facilitate or lead to raja-yoga meditation. So an important and oft-repeated lesson is that we must pick ourselves up from where we have fallen. "If you have fallen in the mud, you cannot pick yourself up from the marble floors of the Taj Mahal."

The centering process is comparable to the yogic concept of smriti-upasthana (sati-patthAna in Pali, Visuddha-magga, See Yoga-sutra 1.20. It intentness of self-observation beginning with the breath, which is the essence of the Buddhist practice of meditation. But it included the concept of mindfulness as usually associated with Zen, meaning attention to the tiniest matters of everyday life—tidiness, precision, cleanliness. Bhakti also requires this mindful attitude, because mindfulness is the essence of the service spirit.

From there he went on to talk about the positioning of the consciousness in the chakras when speaking. When teaching, he said, the consciousness should be in the heart and forehead centers. He went on to explain, giving examples from his own life, that this had made his speaking effective even in mundane situations, like dealing with bureaucrats, etc. The importance of the heart center for the speaker was that it made him intuitively tuned in to the needs of the audience, while the ajna chakra was about harnessing the intellectual faculties.

Although I have only given the sparsest of details from those conversations, they have given me a little more insight into why I am here. It is primarily to learn the lessons of mindfulness. I have always been aware of a flaw in my character that leads me to splinter my energies, dissipating them over a wide number of tasks rather than concentrating on one. I rarely leave a room without leaving something behind and having to return to get it. I may sometimes even have to do this two or three times before I can go on; sometimes I have to return after going a considerable distance when I realize there is something I have left behind, like a wallet, something that was supposed to be in the wallet. Now I have a cellular phone--just one more thing to leave in the pocket of yesterday’s shirt or on the window ledge. Right now I am looking for my beadbag, which I put down somewhere and is currently waiting there for me to retrieve it or until someone returns it to me.

These are just symptoms of a scattered mind. But it shows when I speak, also. I cannot give a lecture without wandering far, far from the original point to speak about things that are only tangentially relevant. Are they interesting? No doubt. Are they essential? Are they the result of a consciousness of what people need to know or hear? Are they the message that I wish to communicate? Do I myself communicate from a position of knowledge and self-groundedness?

When Swamiji was caricaturing the non-centered teacher of yoga, I saw myself in his flailing arms and jerky movements, even in the way I teach Sanskrit to beginners. Nevertheless, I can say that despite the above observations, I can feel that there has been an almost unconscious improvement in these areas, and becoming even more conscious of the need to work on them makes me mindful of another, unexpected reason that I am here in Rishikesh.