I don't believe in them.
However, something pretty groovy happened last year.
I'd gone back into the office after the Christmas/New Year break, and was standing in the queue for Starbucks (Starbucks was in my office building, and 30 yards from my desk), and I suddenly decided I needed to give up chocolate bars.
Some background will assist at this point.
Chocolate is my main vice and dietary weakness. Most people who meet me and don't know me assume I drink, and that my belly is the result of beer. But no, I don't take alcohol at all. It's entirely down to chocolate and sweets. And I'm diabetic, so that's not great. Especially as I would often visit the chocolate vending machines at work several times a day.
So, I needed to give up chocolate bars. I had the bars in mind specifically, as there are other chocolate products I was not yet ready to give up, such as brownies and pain au chocolat. Bars would be a good start, though.
But, the problem is, New Years resolutions are rubbish. The problem with them is that you are just making a promise to yourself, so, if you break the promise, all you have to do is forgive yourself, and no harm done. You don't even have to feel guilty, because you are utterly forgiven.
So I hatched a plan. At first, I thought of making a promise to Someone significant, but then I thought, if I failed, I would be letting them down, and I would have the guilt trip, because I wouldn't be able to ask for forgiveness. Not because it wouldn't be given, but because I would be too ashamed to ask. So that road could only lead to failure, guilt and shame. Not a good option.
Realising that the problem was that I am weak-willed ("Will power of a moth", as my brother-in-law says), what I needed was not the rod of promise and commitment, but the gentle caress of helpful assistance.
So, what I did was this: I asked my Guru that every time I saw a chocolate bar, I would be immediately reminded of Him.
This has meant that since that moment of asking, I have not bought (or otherwise procured and consumed) a single chocolate bar. How could I? Every time I see a chocolate bar, my Guru is there, and I can't eat chocolate in front of my Guru!
The strength and success of this is a little scary.
The reason it is strong is that it depends not on me and my will-power in the slightest. I have done nothing. I don't have to remember my Guru whenever I see chocolate. This is the amazing thing about having such a beautiful Guru: I genuinely asked for his assistance in an important matter, and by His Grace, he has helped me at every moment of my need. I don't need to remember my Guru: the memory of Him just comes to me whenever I see chocolate. And then I don't have to struggle to avoid the chocolate, because it would make me feel so small, ungrateful and plain stupid to eat it despite Him. With His face in my mind, I cannot even think about buying or eating the chocolate.
The reason it is scary is that I feel like I have been handed a useful but dangerous power tool. That doesn't express it properly, but it's the closest I can get: If this way of doing things can cut off chocolate bars so easily and so utterly, then what else might be achieved? What other parts of me might be easily and painlessly removed? What if I am not ready to lose those things?
I'm not doing, but suppose I asked my Guru to help me eat a completely yogic diet?
I have no doubt it would happen.
But I'm not sure I'm ready for that. In fact, I'm quite ure I'm not ready for it! I like bacon sandwiches, and a I like beef curry. I eat meat several times a week. I eat other chocolate products, and other sweets and biscuits. I visit restaurants - good restaurants with Michelin stars, and I enjoy it all.
So, having gone a full year with this support from my Guru, I feel that it is time to extend the parameters a little, and although this happens to fall around New Year, it is not a New Years resolution.
But what to do, and how far to go?
I'm getting close to a decision. It's not about what I think I can manage, it's about what I think I'm ready to do without. When I manage to articulate what I feel the next step is, I will ask my Guru for His further assistance. And then I'll let you know how it goes this time next year.
Friday, 30 December 2011
Thursday, 22 September 2011
The Yoga I Don't Do and the Yoga I Do Do
Of course, I should do it all, but let's be honest: I don't do much.
Well that is, I don't do much of what people think of as yoga.
I'm 45, fat, and am becoming seriously inflexible in body. I never, ok, rarely, practice asana or pranayama.
But I consider myself a practicing yogi. I have, after all, been blessed with Karma Sannyasa Diksha by my Beloved Guru.
So what do I do?
Well, every day - every day - I think about my Guru. Every day he is on my mind. Every day I remember touching his feet, and every day I thank him from the bottom of my heart for accepting me as his worst disciple.
I have a piece of paper blue-tacked to my computer monitor at work. It has written on it the Yamas and the Niyamas. I look at it many times every day. It helps me to bring what I consider to be the real spirit of yoga into my working day. I try hard to deal with every person and every situation in light of those ten simple principles.
I approach my daily work as service. When someone at work asks me to help them, or to do something, it is my Beloved Guru who is asking through them. It doesn't matter that they are asking me to provide evidence for internal audit, or to find the root cause of a bug in the program code. What I am being asked to do is irrelevant. The fact is, I am where I am, and this is what I am to do. I could not be where I am if my Beloved Guru did not put me here. So, I do as He asks, and I do it for Him.
I try to take 20 minutes each mid-day to chant some malas of the mantra my Beloved Guru gave to me. My Beloved Guru has provided a multi-faith room at work so I can do this. Sometimes I am too busy, but that's ok, because if I am busy, then I am busy with my Beloved Guru's work.
So I would love to be thin and bendy, and to be able again to practice ustrasana and siddhasana, matsyasana and my other old favourites. But that won't happen. It's not my path, and I'm not yet ready to step up to the third rung of the eight-step ladder. The first two rungs are enough, and are more than I believe I will achieve in this incarnation. If I try, and if I persist in my trying, then perhaps I can achieve enough that in my next incarnation, I am ready to take another step.
I hope and pray that in my next incarnation, I am able to be born on the same landmass, or even the same country, as my Beloved Guru. If my Yoga practice can achieve so much, the reward will have far outreached the effort.
Well that is, I don't do much of what people think of as yoga.
I'm 45, fat, and am becoming seriously inflexible in body. I never, ok, rarely, practice asana or pranayama.
But I consider myself a practicing yogi. I have, after all, been blessed with Karma Sannyasa Diksha by my Beloved Guru.
So what do I do?
Well, every day - every day - I think about my Guru. Every day he is on my mind. Every day I remember touching his feet, and every day I thank him from the bottom of my heart for accepting me as his worst disciple.
I have a piece of paper blue-tacked to my computer monitor at work. It has written on it the Yamas and the Niyamas. I look at it many times every day. It helps me to bring what I consider to be the real spirit of yoga into my working day. I try hard to deal with every person and every situation in light of those ten simple principles.
I approach my daily work as service. When someone at work asks me to help them, or to do something, it is my Beloved Guru who is asking through them. It doesn't matter that they are asking me to provide evidence for internal audit, or to find the root cause of a bug in the program code. What I am being asked to do is irrelevant. The fact is, I am where I am, and this is what I am to do. I could not be where I am if my Beloved Guru did not put me here. So, I do as He asks, and I do it for Him.
I try to take 20 minutes each mid-day to chant some malas of the mantra my Beloved Guru gave to me. My Beloved Guru has provided a multi-faith room at work so I can do this. Sometimes I am too busy, but that's ok, because if I am busy, then I am busy with my Beloved Guru's work.
So I would love to be thin and bendy, and to be able again to practice ustrasana and siddhasana, matsyasana and my other old favourites. But that won't happen. It's not my path, and I'm not yet ready to step up to the third rung of the eight-step ladder. The first two rungs are enough, and are more than I believe I will achieve in this incarnation. If I try, and if I persist in my trying, then perhaps I can achieve enough that in my next incarnation, I am ready to take another step.
I hope and pray that in my next incarnation, I am able to be born on the same landmass, or even the same country, as my Beloved Guru. If my Yoga practice can achieve so much, the reward will have far outreached the effort.
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Bhagavad Gita 5:4, 5 & 6
This months verses ere chosen as their theme is very much about the concept and validity of Karma Yoga. Paramahamsa Satyananda reinstated what he saw as an ancient order of Sannyasa - Karma Sannyasa. Whilst a sage such as Paramahamsa-ji does not require any justification for his actions, it is said that he restored this order on the basis of writings in some of the more obscure Shruti and Smriti. However, right here in the Gita we see evidence that the concept, if not the order, of Karma Sannyasa is well established in the philosophy of the Gita.
These passages (5:4-12) are of great fascination to me, as Paramahamsa Niranjanananda, continuing in Paramahamsa Satyananda's tradition, continues to give Karma Sannyasa Diksha, and was gracious enough to give the same to myself and Poornamurti.
Here are the first two of these verses, from Mascaro (paraphrased only to remove the use of 'he'):
5.6 is so different in each case, that I think we need to have a look at the original:
Literally:
So, to try to make some sense of this:
Why is this?
Because in the Gita Yoga is almost synonymous with Karma Yoga. Whereas our modern understanding of Yoga is of asana, pranayama, etc., the conception of Yoga in the Gita is essentially one of work. This realisation comes about through later passages, where 'the yoga of work' is used interchangeably with simple 'yoga'. Almost every translator then takes this understanding back to the early chapters, and where in the sanskrit text we may see just 'Yoga', most translators will often put 'Yoga of Action' or even 'Karma Yoga', because it is 'obvious' that within the historical context, this wold have been the accepted understanding. Because our modern conception of Yoga is different, the translation has to be qualified in this way.
And that's why we get such different translations: each translator tries to make the meaning of the text more clear to our modern minds, by changing it slightly in this kind of way. With my bias towards the Satyananda tradition, there is an obvious way to re-translate this:
But here's an interesting thing: Sannyasa is renunciation, but Karma Yoga is action? And the Gita is saying one cannot readily achieve renunciation without being immersed in action?
Surely the point of renunciation is to give up action? A renunciate leaves the normal world, and goes to live on an ashrama, and sit shady groves, spending all day in meditation, surely? Surely, one of the points of renouncing, is to renounce 'action'?
But this is not so. And anyone who visits a Satyananda ashram will learn it in short order! Satyananda ashrams, particularly those in India, are places that are full of action. And full of renunciates.
So how can this be? How can one be renunciate and be immersed in work?
We'll need verses 7-12 to answer that one!
These passages (5:4-12) are of great fascination to me, as Paramahamsa Niranjanananda, continuing in Paramahamsa Satyananda's tradition, continues to give Karma Sannyasa Diksha, and was gracious enough to give the same to myself and Poornamurti.
Here are the first two of these verses, from Mascaro (paraphrased only to remove the use of 'he'):
5.4 Ignorant people, but not the wise, say that Sankhya and Yoga are different paths; but who gives all their soul to one, reaches the end of the two.And from MacCuish (Walking with the Gita):
5.5 Because the victory won by the person of wisdom is also won by the person of good work. That person sees indeed the truth who sees that vision and creation are one.
5.6 But renunciation, Arjuna, is difficult to attain without Yoga of work. When a sage is one in Yoga, they soon are one in God.
5.4 It is the childish, not the wise, who say that knowledge and action are different. The wise now that whoever applies themselves well to one will achieve the rewards of both.The MacCuish translation is the more true in 5.4 in that the Sanskrit is indeed 'the childish', and not 'the ignorant'. Mascaro is more true in that the Sanskrit talks explicitly about Sankhya and Yoga, rather than wisdom and action.
5.5 Both followers of knowledge and action reach the same goal. They see clearly who understand that knowledge and selfless action are the same.
5.6 Perfect renunciation is difficult to attain without being engaged in action. But the wise who follow the path of action can quickly achieve the supreme.
5.6 is so different in each case, that I think we need to have a look at the original:
saanyaasas tu mahaabaaho
duHkham aaptum ayogatah
yoga yukto munir brahma
na chirenaadigach chhati
Literally:
renunciation is great-hero(The next time God chooses to walk the Earth, I hope he learns English.)
difficult to-obtain without-yoga
immersed-in-yoga impelled-to Brahma
not long-time-accomplishment cut-off
So, to try to make some sense of this:
Renunciation is, great hero (He's talking to Arjuna, remember)Not word about action, yoga of work, or karma.
Difficult to obtain without Yoga
If you are immersed in Yoga, and meditate on Brahma
It won't be long before you reach the end of your accomplishment.
Why is this?
Because in the Gita Yoga is almost synonymous with Karma Yoga. Whereas our modern understanding of Yoga is of asana, pranayama, etc., the conception of Yoga in the Gita is essentially one of work. This realisation comes about through later passages, where 'the yoga of work' is used interchangeably with simple 'yoga'. Almost every translator then takes this understanding back to the early chapters, and where in the sanskrit text we may see just 'Yoga', most translators will often put 'Yoga of Action' or even 'Karma Yoga', because it is 'obvious' that within the historical context, this wold have been the accepted understanding. Because our modern conception of Yoga is different, the translation has to be qualified in this way.
And that's why we get such different translations: each translator tries to make the meaning of the text more clear to our modern minds, by changing it slightly in this kind of way. With my bias towards the Satyananda tradition, there is an obvious way to re-translate this:
Renunciation is, great hero,So, the two versions of 5.6 given above, each convey the same message, but they use slightly different words and phrases, because they are trying to convey the meaning of the Gita, and not the words of the Gita.
Difficult to obtain without Karma Yoga
If you are immersed in Karma Yoga, and meditate on Brahma
It won't be long before you reach the end of your accomplishment.
But here's an interesting thing: Sannyasa is renunciation, but Karma Yoga is action? And the Gita is saying one cannot readily achieve renunciation without being immersed in action?
Surely the point of renunciation is to give up action? A renunciate leaves the normal world, and goes to live on an ashrama, and sit shady groves, spending all day in meditation, surely? Surely, one of the points of renouncing, is to renounce 'action'?
But this is not so. And anyone who visits a Satyananda ashram will learn it in short order! Satyananda ashrams, particularly those in India, are places that are full of action. And full of renunciates.
So how can this be? How can one be renunciate and be immersed in work?
We'll need verses 7-12 to answer that one!
There are a few copies of 'Walking with the Gita' available via Amazon Marketplace:
It is a wonderful book. As well as a modern and pleasing translation of chapters 1-6 of the Gita, it offers daily practices, and gives the musical notation to allow chanting of the Gita in Sanskrit. It's a terrible pity that Volume 1 is out of print, and Volume 2 was never published...
Catching Up
Well, the May event happened, and was really good. We had, I think, ten people on the night, and we can run to a few more with a bit of creative seating.
A couple of people mentioned that they would be happy to do more chanting than we have been doing, so I'm going to look towards adding a couple more mantras into the mix.
Unfortunately, we didn't get chance to talk about the Gita this time, which is perhaps as well, as even I hadn't looked at the verses in preparation, and I chose them!
So, I tink this time we'll keep the same verses. They can be found in this post (Chapter 5, verses 4-12), and I wil start to put my thoughts about them together as soon as I can.
A couple of people mentioned that they would be happy to do more chanting than we have been doing, so I'm going to look towards adding a couple more mantras into the mix.
Unfortunately, we didn't get chance to talk about the Gita this time, which is perhaps as well, as even I hadn't looked at the verses in preparation, and I chose them!
So, I tink this time we'll keep the same verses. They can be found in this post (Chapter 5, verses 4-12), and I wil start to put my thoughts about them together as soon as I can.
When Yoga Can Really Help
I met Gary (Syd) Bloomfield more than 25 years ago, and we were instantly good friends. We did some crazy stuff together in our teens and early twenties.
We settled down to a strong and lasting friendship, and as those early-life friends dispersed and went their separate ways, Gary and I remained as true life-friends. When I married Poornamurti, Gary was my Best Man.
Gary's own marriage broke up soon after that, and he went through a rough period. He'd always liked a drink, but by his own admission, at that time, he took things a bit too far. A few years later, he was very ill for a while, but they eventually sorted his medication, he cut right back on his excess, and everything seemed relatively ok.
Over the last few years, he was admitted to hospital about once a year, usually when a chest infection hit him hard, due to his condition. So, when a couple of weeks ago I got a text from him saying he was in hospital again, but would be home in two or three days, I didn't think too much of it.
So it came as a real shock when yesterday I got a phone call from Poornamurti, telling me his brother Craig had rang, and Syd had taken a turn for the worse, and died. He was 47 years old.
I have to confess, it hit me hard. I took the call at my desk at work, and had to leave. I beat myself up for not having visited when he told me he was in hospital. I had done every other time, but I thought if he was going to be home in two or three days, then it wasn't worth bothering. I still think it's a shame I didn't see him one last time. But then, even if I had, neither of us would have known what was going to happen, so it would have been just another half an hour added to years of friendship, so in the great scheme of things, not a great deal - but at the same time, certainly not enough.
So here I am. My very closest friend (besides Poornamurti) - and one of only three people I really call friend - has gone.
But I know he hasn't ended. And that's more than a comfort, for it allows me to see my grief for what it is: I have no sorrow for Gary; it's all for me. I know he is no longer suffering - no longer trapped in a body that was growing in discomfort and slowly failing him. And I know and that soon he we will have another turn on the great merry-go-round of life. I also know he was fundamentally a very, very good person. Sure, he liked a little mischief. But it was only ever at his own expense, and he never willingly caused anyone any harm or upset. So I know he's ok.
The grief I feel is because I wil miss him. We won't be having the boys nights in any more, where we play cards and chat about the meaning of life, the universe and everything. I won't have anyone to introduce me to new realms of music anymore. How many Dr John's or Thelonius Monks are there that he knew well, and I never encountered yet? I won't have the benefit of him recounting the fascination of his latest readings, whether it be the life of Tony Benn, or the works of Marx (Karl or the Brothers).
So my grief is for myself, and knowing that makes it a little easier to handle.
We settled down to a strong and lasting friendship, and as those early-life friends dispersed and went their separate ways, Gary and I remained as true life-friends. When I married Poornamurti, Gary was my Best Man.
Gary's own marriage broke up soon after that, and he went through a rough period. He'd always liked a drink, but by his own admission, at that time, he took things a bit too far. A few years later, he was very ill for a while, but they eventually sorted his medication, he cut right back on his excess, and everything seemed relatively ok.
Over the last few years, he was admitted to hospital about once a year, usually when a chest infection hit him hard, due to his condition. So, when a couple of weeks ago I got a text from him saying he was in hospital again, but would be home in two or three days, I didn't think too much of it.
So it came as a real shock when yesterday I got a phone call from Poornamurti, telling me his brother Craig had rang, and Syd had taken a turn for the worse, and died. He was 47 years old.
I have to confess, it hit me hard. I took the call at my desk at work, and had to leave. I beat myself up for not having visited when he told me he was in hospital. I had done every other time, but I thought if he was going to be home in two or three days, then it wasn't worth bothering. I still think it's a shame I didn't see him one last time. But then, even if I had, neither of us would have known what was going to happen, so it would have been just another half an hour added to years of friendship, so in the great scheme of things, not a great deal - but at the same time, certainly not enough.
So here I am. My very closest friend (besides Poornamurti) - and one of only three people I really call friend - has gone.
But I know he hasn't ended. And that's more than a comfort, for it allows me to see my grief for what it is: I have no sorrow for Gary; it's all for me. I know he is no longer suffering - no longer trapped in a body that was growing in discomfort and slowly failing him. And I know and that soon he we will have another turn on the great merry-go-round of life. I also know he was fundamentally a very, very good person. Sure, he liked a little mischief. But it was only ever at his own expense, and he never willingly caused anyone any harm or upset. So I know he's ok.
The grief I feel is because I wil miss him. We won't be having the boys nights in any more, where we play cards and chat about the meaning of life, the universe and everything. I won't have anyone to introduce me to new realms of music anymore. How many Dr John's or Thelonius Monks are there that he knew well, and I never encountered yet? I won't have the benefit of him recounting the fascination of his latest readings, whether it be the life of Tony Benn, or the works of Marx (Karl or the Brothers).
So my grief is for myself, and knowing that makes it a little easier to handle.
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
A Moment From a Past Age
When we were in Munger, at the Bihar School of Yoga, Swami-ji was giving satsang. That's why we'd gone at that particular time. It also happened to be Navaratri, so there was a bit of a festival vibe, and even at Munger, I suspect things were a little more relaxed than normal.
Swami-ji would talk to us in the mornings in the main practice hall. This was always good. He spoke on a wide variety of subjects, but I can't remember anything really. It just washed over me. I was just enthralled at being so close to him.
Every ray of sunlight that reflects off him and enters my eyes is an incredible blessing. And that's all I was aware of.
Swami-ji also gave satsangs in the evening, in the courtyard. These were less formal somehow, and it was nice to sit in the cool dark evening, and just let his voice wash over.
One evening, we had all gathered in the courtyard, and a bunch of swamis came and started to usher us out of the courtyard, and across the car parking area. They were obviously excited. They were quite thorough in forming us into lines, and giving instructions. One of them told me that we had all been invited into a very special space. We were all going into swami-ji's garden, where there was a small room with some precious objects. Only one or two of the resident swami's had ever been allowed into the space. Normally it was off limits to everyone in the ashram.
We walked across the car park and after waiting in line, we passed though a gap in some bushes, and through a gate...and into wonderland!
It was dark, but hot, but as we entered the garden, the temperature dropped five degrees, with cool grass and gently swaying trees all around. And lights. Hundreds upon hundreds of buter lamps, all around the garden, twinkling like stars, and giving a beautiful golden glow to the whole scene.
It was simply breathtaking.
We were lead around the garden in a long line, past a central area with a couple of Murtis, and into and through the small building. The atmosphere in the building was intense. There was lots of incense smoke, but there was much else besides. I'm quite familiar with the trappings of Hinduism and Yoga, but there only a few things I recognised, such as sphatica mala and linga, some yantras etc. Some other things were simply mysterious. It felt like a tremendous privilege (which of course it was) just to be there.
After this we all sat in he garden whilst Swami-ji gave his satsang.
To say he was delightful that evening would like saying the Mona Lisa is a pretty picture. It would be like saying Mount Everest is a hill.
Those who know Swami-ji will know he has a great sense of humour. This evening he was on form. He told us a delightful story, filled with humour. At one point he was laughing so much, he couldn't get his words out. Everyone was literrally in tears of laughter. We were in the palm of his hand, and we were putty. He told the tale with mastery, eventually leading us around to the gentle moral of the tale. And it was such a gentle moral, delivered with such sweetness and grace, that the tears were no longer with laughter.
When I look back on this now, I feel I have been given a moment outside of Kali Yug. Siting there, in the presence of such a great Sage, being entertained, educated and so gently nudged along the path, in the cool golden air was a moment from another age.
Swami-ji would talk to us in the mornings in the main practice hall. This was always good. He spoke on a wide variety of subjects, but I can't remember anything really. It just washed over me. I was just enthralled at being so close to him.
Every ray of sunlight that reflects off him and enters my eyes is an incredible blessing. And that's all I was aware of.
Swami-ji also gave satsangs in the evening, in the courtyard. These were less formal somehow, and it was nice to sit in the cool dark evening, and just let his voice wash over.
One evening, we had all gathered in the courtyard, and a bunch of swamis came and started to usher us out of the courtyard, and across the car parking area. They were obviously excited. They were quite thorough in forming us into lines, and giving instructions. One of them told me that we had all been invited into a very special space. We were all going into swami-ji's garden, where there was a small room with some precious objects. Only one or two of the resident swami's had ever been allowed into the space. Normally it was off limits to everyone in the ashram.
We walked across the car park and after waiting in line, we passed though a gap in some bushes, and through a gate...and into wonderland!
It was dark, but hot, but as we entered the garden, the temperature dropped five degrees, with cool grass and gently swaying trees all around. And lights. Hundreds upon hundreds of buter lamps, all around the garden, twinkling like stars, and giving a beautiful golden glow to the whole scene.
It was simply breathtaking.
We were lead around the garden in a long line, past a central area with a couple of Murtis, and into and through the small building. The atmosphere in the building was intense. There was lots of incense smoke, but there was much else besides. I'm quite familiar with the trappings of Hinduism and Yoga, but there only a few things I recognised, such as sphatica mala and linga, some yantras etc. Some other things were simply mysterious. It felt like a tremendous privilege (which of course it was) just to be there.
After this we all sat in he garden whilst Swami-ji gave his satsang.
To say he was delightful that evening would like saying the Mona Lisa is a pretty picture. It would be like saying Mount Everest is a hill.
Those who know Swami-ji will know he has a great sense of humour. This evening he was on form. He told us a delightful story, filled with humour. At one point he was laughing so much, he couldn't get his words out. Everyone was literrally in tears of laughter. We were in the palm of his hand, and we were putty. He told the tale with mastery, eventually leading us around to the gentle moral of the tale. And it was such a gentle moral, delivered with such sweetness and grace, that the tears were no longer with laughter.
When I look back on this now, I feel I have been given a moment outside of Kali Yug. Siting there, in the presence of such a great Sage, being entertained, educated and so gently nudged along the path, in the cool golden air was a moment from another age.
Sunday, 10 April 2011
Bhagavad Gita 5: 4 - 12
These are the verses I suggest for contemplation for our next Saturday Sadhana (from Mascaro):
5.4 Ignorant men, but not the wise, say that sankhya and yoga are different paths; but he who gives all his soul to one reaches the end of the two.
5.5 Because the victory won by the man of wisdom is also won by the man of good work. That man sees indeed the truth who sees that vision and creation are one.
5.6 But renunciation, Arjuna, is difficult to attain without Yoga of work. When a sage is one in Yoga, he soon is one in God.
5.7 No work stains a man who is pure, who is in harmony; who is master of his life, whose soul is one with the soul of all.
5.8 'I am not doing any work' thinks the ma who is in
5.9 harmony, who sees the truth. For in seeing or hearing, smelling or touching, eating or walking or sleeping or breathing, in taling or grasping or relaxing, and even in opening or closing his eyes, remembers: 'It is the servants of my soul that are working'.
5.10 Offer all thy works to God, throw off selfish bonds, and do thy work. No sin can then stain thee, even as waters do not stain the leaf of the lotus.
5.11 The yogi works for the purification of the soul: he throws off selfish attachment, and thus it is only his body, or his senses, or his mind or his reason that works.
5.12 This man of harmony surrenders the reward of his work and thus attains final peace: the man of disharmony, urged by desire, is attached to his reward and remains in bondage.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)