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1.3 Alternative
Readings of the Gita
Before considering
in more detail the personhood of Krishna that we can extrapolate from
our analysis of the Gita we shall consider some other interpretations,
and also look at more recent mystics who appear to speak like Krishna.
Firstly some commentaries on the Gita are worth mentioning, in
particular two early and influential ones, the first by Sankara [16], and the second by Ramanuja [17].
Sankara's commentary derives from his position as India's great non-dualist,
emphasising renunciation and a direct approach to the Imperishable. Ramanuja,
exponent of 'modified' non-dualism, is more devotional in his treatment
of the Gita. An emphasis on devotion inevitably leads to a qualified non-dualism:
although the aspirant may be instructed that the object of devotion is
not separate from the devotee in principle, some separation has to creep
into the language in order for the necessary humility and opening to devotional
love. (We note in this context that Krishna is free to adopt a non-dual
position by stating his identity with Arjuna, whereas Arjuna at no point
can say the same about Krishna.) It is probably fair to say of both of
these influential commentaries of Sankara and Ramanuja that renunciation
is stressed more than in the Gita itself, perhaps also as a result
of the devastation of the great war it presages. Whatever the reasons,
the principle of renunciation seems to increase its grip on the Indian
religious imagination, from its mild form in the Upanishads to extremes
still apparent in modern times, and perhaps exemplified in the life of
Mahatma Gandhi.
Mohanadasa Karamchand Gandhi, later to be known as Mahatma ('great soul')
Gandhi, was born in 1869 in India. He trained as a lawyer in England,
going on to practice in South Africa, and gained an international reputation
as the promoter of non-violent resistance to British rule in India. He
was greatly influenced in his philosophy by the Gita, and eventually
finished a Gujarati translation of it in 1929. Gandhi had considerable
difficulty reconciling his principle of ahimsa (non-violence) with
Krishna's message to Arjuna; despite this he felt the teachings of the
Gita were what all Indians should aspire to. The following passages
show some of his difficulties:
Even in
1888 - 89, when I first became acquainted with the Gita, I felt
that it was not a historical work, but that, under the guise of physical
warfare, it described the duel that perpetually went on in the heart
of mankind, and that physical warfare was brought in merely to make
the description of the internal duel more alluring. [18]
But if the
Gita believed in ahimsa, or it was included in desirelessness,
why did the author take a warlike illustration? When the Gita was
written, although people believed in ahimsa, wars were not only not taboo,
but nobody observed the contradiction between them and ahimsa. [19]
Gandhi is taking a moral interpretation of the Gita, a perfectly
legitimate one, but much too narrow in the context of Pure Consciousness
Mysticism. The characteristic of his commentary is its basis in logic:
people believe in non-violence, but they go to war, therefore they are
not observing the contradiction. Gandhi applied the logic of his legal
training to every aspect of his life, leading to such absurdities as sleeping
with young girls to test his celibacy (a logical response to the principle
of renunciation). It is not the intention here to debate the pacifist
stance, or to detract from Gandhi's achievements: the point is that Gandhi
illustrates well what a highly intelligent person can make of a mystical
text when they have no instinct for mysticism. Gandhi is touchingly honest
when he is confused by the imagery of the Gita, for example with
verses 24 and 25 of chapter eight (quoted earlier on page
24) where Krishna describes how men who depart in 'times of darkness'
return to 'death on earth' :
I do not
understand the meaning of these two shlokas [verses]. They do
not seem to me to be consistent with the teachings of the Gita.
The Gita teaches that he whose heart is meek with devotion, who
is devoted to unattached action and has seen the Truth must win salvation,
no matter when he dies. [20]
If one's instinct does not tell one immediately that these two verses
are a poetical illustration of the state of a person at death,
then there is probably little hope of penetrating the Gita. Gandhi
later tells us that the Unmanifest that Arjuna asks about in verse 1 of
chapter 12 is beyond us:
Mortal
man can only imagine the Unmanifest, the Impersonal, and as his language
fails him he often negatively describes It as 'Neti', 'Neti', (Not That,
Not That). And so even iconoclasts are at bottom no better than idol-worshippers.
[21]
Gandhi's distinction between iconoclasts and idol-worshippers corresponds
loosely to the distinction in PCM between the path of awareness (direct
apprehension of the Unmanifest) and the path of devotion, but he rejected
both, as his ideal was perfect renunciation. The reader is referred to
his autobiography [22] to see the lengths that Gandhi went to in this pursuit, quite
oblivious to the picture of Krishna presented in the scriptures as renouncing
absolutely nothing in his life, including warfare. Perhaps by elevating
Krishna to Godhood one can avoid facing the awkward facts of his non-renunciation
(see also Rajneesh's comments on Gandhi's attitude to Krishna [23]).
We do of course have examples of great mystics who were also renunciates,
but Gandhi is a clear example of how renunciation in itself does not bring
one to the infinite and eternal. Let us look now at two modern renunciate
mystics from India: Sri Ramakrishna and Ramana Maharshi, both of whom
often speak like Krishna, and, like Krishna in the Gita, use the
ancient scriptures in their teachings alongside their own vision.
1.4 Ramakrishna
Some twenty-five
centuries after Krishna lived one of the greatest modern mystics: Sri
Ramakrishna. Like Krishna he advocated the path of devotion as being the
fastest and most suitable for his contemporary age, and represents one
polarity of the mystic type: one who follows the path of love, devotion,
and surrender. He was an uneducated village boy, with an early love for
religious festivals and observances, and for acting in religious stories,
often the woman's part. As a boy he watched a flock of swans fly up from
a nearby lake, and lost consciousness in the first of many religious trances.
He became a priest, and was offered a place at a Kali temple built by
a rich devotee, but his parents were worried by his other-worldliness
(even though his mother had a premonition before his birth of his spiritual
stature), and arranged a marriage for him. The marriage had little effect,
for they had to wait six years before consummation could be possible,
and in any case they managed to choose as spiritual a girl as it would
be possible to find for him, later to become revered in her own right
as a teacher. By the time that they did come to live together both were
so far on the spiritual path that consummation never in fact took place.
Romain Rolland gives an account of a formative stage in Ramakrishna's
development, where his instinct for the devotional was challenged by an
encounter with a formidable exponent of the path of non-dualism a man
known as Tota Puri from the Naga sect of Advaita Vedanta.
"The
naked man, Tota Puri, taught me to detach my mind from all objects and
to plunge it into the heart of the Atman. But despite all my efforts,
I could not cross the realm of name and form and lead my spirit to the
Unconditional state. I had no difficulty in detaching my mind from all
objects with the one exception of the too familiar form of the radiant
Mother [Kali], the essence of pure knowledge, who appeared before me
as a living reality. She barred the way to the beyond. I tried on several
occasions to concentrate my mind on the precepts of the Advaita Vedanta;
but each time the form of the Mother intervened. I said to Tota Puri
in despair: 'It is no good, I shall never succeed in lifting my spirit
to the "unconditioned" state and find myself face to face
with the Atman.' He replied severely: 'What! you say you cannot? You
must!' Looking about him, he found a piece of glass. He took it and
stuck the point between my eyes, saying: 'Concentrate your mind on that
point.' Then I began to meditate with all my might, and as soon as the
gracious form of the Divine Mother appeared, I used my discrimination
as a sword, and I clove Her in two. The last barrier fell and my spirit
immediately precipitated itself beyond the place of the 'conditioned',
and I lost myself in Samadhi."
"The Universe was extinguished. Space itself was no more. At first
the shadows of ideas floated in the obscure depths of the mind. Monotonously
a feeble consciousness of the ego went on ticking. Then that stopped
too. Nothing remained but Existence. The soul was lost in Self. Dualism
was blotted out. Finite and Infinite space were as one. Beyond word,
beyond thought, he attained Brahman." [24]
The meeting between Ramakrishna and Tota Puri is unusual in the history
of mysticism because there seems to have been a mutual transmission: Tota
Puri then learned the devotional from Ramakrishna. Each in turn became
master, and each in turn came to 'understand' the path of the other, though
understand is too mild a word to capture what took place between them.
Though each probably remained true to their basic impulse or orientation
(one to what we call 'awareness' in this book but also variously known
as non-dualism, jnani yoga, knowledge and so on and the other to devotion)
their secondary realisation of the other path gave them an unusual basis
from which to teach.
Ramakrishna is typical of the Indian renunciate, though his story is unique
as this brief introduction has shown. Despite his realisation of non-dualism
he taught devotion to the divinity Kali, and his students were allowed
to express this as devotion to him; he in return delighted in the young
men that come and shared his worship. He warned them against 'women and
gold', and advised them to keep away from women until they were sufficiently
pure for a woman to be no danger, much as a young tree is fenced around
to prevent elephants damaging it, but when fully grown needs no fence.
His teachings were full of these simple metaphors, part of his culture,
but brought to life by the intensity of his personality and realisation.
The Gospel of Ramakrishna [25] documents life at Dakshineswar, on the banks of the Ganges
in what is now Bengal, and is a diary written by one of his devotees,
modestly calling himself only 'M'. Aldous Huxley provided a foreword,
calling Ramakrishna a saint, with the lucky provision of a competent reporter
on his life. This is probably the first well-documented Indian mystic,
and probably only because of the influence of the British in things bureaucratic,
and it is a remarkable glimpse into the Hindu tradition of guru and disciple,
and into life in nineteenth century India.
The teachings of Ramakrishna represent a mixture of via positiva
and via negativa, as he urged his listeners to surrender to divine
love, to God-intoxication, while renouncing the pleasures of the world.
Ramakrishna was quite happy to take 'householders' as disciples, urging
them only to restrain their sexual demands on their wives. Ramakrishna
seems to be so genuinely beyond the sexual (he admitted somewhere that
physically it simply didn't work any more), that his advice has the ring
of a warm recommendation rather than of moralising. His renunciation had
quite a different nature to that of Gandhi: there was no sense of struggle
with himself; but on the other hand his only interest in the manifest
world seemed to lie with his disciples and their potential for self-realisation.
An issue that crops up again and again in M's Gospel is whether
Ramakrishna was a divine or ordinary incarnation, echoing our questions
over Krishna. Ramakrishna himself offered no definitive view, though both
his parents had intimations of a divine incarnation (though whether of
Shiva or Vishnu is unclear). His refusal to be dogmatic is typical of
the fluidity of all his thought, and his respect for all paths, shown
in this quote:
"Greeting
to the feet of the Jnani [seeker on the path of awareness (knowledge)]!
Greeting to the feet of the Bhakta [seeker on the path of devotion]!
Greeting to the devout who believe in the formless God! Greeting to
those who believe in God with form! Greeting to the men of old who knew
Brahman! Greeting to the modern knowers of Truth. " [26]
Christopher Isherwood was more certain that Ramakrishna's incarnation
was special, as we see from this extract from his biography of Ramakrishna:
On August
13th, Naren [Vivekananda, discussed below] was again in Ramakrishna's
room, alone. The body on the bed seemed barely alive and quite preoccupied
with its pain. Could this abjectly suffering creature be an incarnation
of God? 'If he would declare his divinity now, in the presence of death,'
Naren said to himself, 'I'd accept it.' He was instantly ashamed of
the thought and put it from his mind. For some moments he stood watching
the Master's face intently. Then, slowly, Ramakrishna's lips parted
and he said in a distinct voice, 'Oh Naren aren't you convinced yet?
He who was once born as Rama, and again as Krishna, is now living as
Ramakrishna within this body and not in your Vedantic sense.'
By adding
'not in your Vedantic sense' Ramakrishna was, of course, emphasizing
that he did not merely mean he was essentially the Atman, as is every
being and object, according to Vedanta Philosophy. Ramakrishna was explicitly
declaring himself to be an avatar and an incarnation of former avatars.
[27]
Isherwood was a devotee of Ramakrishna and may have been making too much
of this conversation; Ramakrishna's statement here is not typical and
may have been only said for the benefit of a particular disciple.
For those seeking a justification of the perennial philosophy from a mystic,
rather than from an academic, Ramakrishna is worth studying as he could
see into the heart of all traditions and mystics and comment on their
essential unity from an experiential level. The initial encounter with
Tota Puri, leading to his dissolving the boundaries of the devotional
and the non-dual paths, became an active examination of all the traditions
that he came across, including Christian and Moslem. Ramakrishna's embraciveness,
present in its usual form of love and compassion for his students, was
thus characterised by an additional and intense curiosity for any manifestation
of the mystical impulse in any culture or tradition. However, in contrast
to what we know of Krishna, we have to call him a renunciate, as he had
no possessions and gave his whole life to teaching and worship.
Ramakrishna is also known for his disciple, Vivekananda, who, unlike his
master who never travelled, went to the United States in 1983 and introduced
Ramakrishna and Hindu thought to the West. His name previous to his departure
for the States was Narendra (or Naren), and Ramakrishna had a presentiment
of his arrival at Dakshineswar and the great role that lay ahead of him.
The following passage describes this, but is also of interest as a description
of Ramakrishna's inner world:
One day
I found that my mind was soaring high in Samadhi along a luminous path.
It soon transcended the stellar universe and entered the subtler region
of ideas. As it ascended higher and higher, I found on both sides of
the way ideal forms of gods and goddesses. The mind then reached the
outer limits of that region, where a luminous barrier separated the
sphere of relative existence from that of the Absolute. Crossing that
barrier, the mind entered the transcendental realm, where no corporeal
being was visible. Even the gods dared not peep into that sublime realm
and were content to keep their seats far below.
In Pure Consciousness Mysticism we may well want to be cautious about
such a description of 'realms', beyond perhaps noting correspondences
with other accounts, for example the Tibetan Book of the Dead. What is
interesting here is that the gods (which we can take to be disembodied
beings) are subordinate to Ramakrishna: they cannot enter the Absolute.
Ramakrishna continues:
But the
next moment I saw seven venerable sages seated there in Samadhi. It
occurred to me that these sages must have surpassed not only men but
even the gods in knowledge and holiness, in renunciation and love. Lost
in admiration, I was reflecting on their greatness, when I saw a portion
of that undifferentiated luminous region condense into the form of a
divine child. The child came to one of the sages, tenderly clasped his
neck with his lovely arms, and addressing him in a sweet voice, tried
to drag his mind down from the state of Samadhi. That magic touch aroused
the sage from the superconscious state, and he fixed his half-open eyes
on the wonderful child. His beaming countenance showed that the child
must have been the treasure of his heart. In great joy the strange child
spoke to him, 'I am going down. You too must go with me.' The sage remained
mute but his tender look expressed his assent. As he kept gazing at
the child, he was again immersed in Samadhi. I was surprised to find
that a fragment of his body and mind was descending to earth in the
form of a bright light. No sooner had I seen Narendra than I recognised
him to be that sage. [28]
The child in this passage is taken to be Ramakrishna himself. Narendra,
like Arjuna, was of the warrior caste and physically and intellectually
well-developed and of an acutely independent mind, but his first visit
to Ramakrishna only persuaded him that he was eccentric, for Ramakrishna
had recognised him from his vision and drawn him aside, to babble incoherently
to him that at last he could 'pour out his spirit into the breast of somebody
fitted to receive my inner experience!' Narendra returned however:
"I
found him alone sitting on his small bed. He was glad to see me, and
called me affectionately to sit near him on one side of the bed. But
a moment later I saw him convulsed with some emotion. His eyes were
fixed upon me, he muttered under his breath, and drew slowly nearer.
I thought he was going to make some eccentric remark as on the previous
occasion. But before I could stop him he had placed his right foot on
my body. The contact was terrible. With my eyes open I saw the walls
and everything in the room whirling and vanishing into nothingness.
The whole universe and my own individuality were at the same time almost
lost in a nameless void, which swallowed up everything that is. I was
terrified, and believed I was face to face with death. I could not stop
myself from crying out, What are you doing? I have parents at home.'
Then he began to laugh, and passing his hand over my breast, he said,
'All right. Let us leave it at that for the moment! It will come, all
in good time.' He had no sooner said these words than the strange phenomena
disappeared. I came to myself again, and everything both outside and
in, was as before." [29]
Ramakrishna is Krishna to Vivekananda's Arjuna: also striking is the image
of Ramakrishna placing his foot on him, as in so many images of the goddess
Kali. Vivekananda's discipleship was troublesome but also nectar for Ramakrishna,
and later Vivekananda said of them both: "Outwardly he was all Bhakta,
but inwardly all Jnani. I am the exact opposite." [30]
Ramakrishna's ecstatic form of devotional mysticism touches on questions
at the heart of Pure Consciousness Mysticism. In my Introduction Robert
Forman's Pure Consciousness Event (PCE) was mentioned as a particular
type of experience, beginning and ending in time, where consciousness
is awake but devoid of content. The very interesting and valuable collection
of essays that make up his book unfortunately gives few recorded examples
of such a state (I have not found a single reference to Ramakrishna),
though there is reference to the various theories found in Indian and
other systems of thought. These theories relate to a form of samadhi,
an ecstatic state, which is considered to be either with or without content,
and is theorised about at length in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.
We have many accounts of Ramakrishna's samadhi, one of which took place
during a rare opportunity in front of a photographer, resulting in one
of the best-known and best-loved photographs of the saint. In the photograph
his hands are raised in a spontaneous gesture of bliss, and he has to
be supported by one of his followers. According to Rolland Tota Puri himself
was so awed by the body of Ramakrishna in samadhi 'rigid as a corpse for
days on end', that this persuaded him to break his rule of only spending
three days in any one place and resulted in him staying eleven months
to learn from the man who had previously been his disciple. [31]
In the many accounts in M.'s biography, Ramakrishna said of his samadhi
that they were empty of content: he lost consciousness of his surroundings
and entered (in Forman's terminology) a state of pure consciousness. It
is possible that Socrates' fits of abstraction were also of the same type.
Pure Consciousness Mysticism does not however require that a mystic be
capable of such states for several reasons: firstly, it is not the common
factor amongst mystics, any more than celibacy, pacifism, or vegetarianism
is. Secondly, it is clear that no one could live for long in such a state,
partly because they could not function normally, and partly because of
an instinct we all have that such a peak of experience is usually followed
by a valley (as in the Sufi's picture of expansion and contraction). What
then are we to make of the Pure Consciousness Event, assuming that Ramakrishna
presents us with a good example of it? There are two possibilities. Firstly,
despite the indications in the Yoga Sutras and elsewhere that this
is the highest state obtainable, and the goal of Yoga, it is in fact something
of a transitory experience. Many mystics experience such states during
the stages of transformation or enlightenment, possibly as a result of
the shock of a new identification with the whole, or loss of identification
with the narrower self. Arjuna's visions of Krishna could be understood
in this way: a form of Pure Consciousness Event which can only be described
(by a third party incidentally) in terms of a cosmic imagery. We will
see with Krishnamurti that, shortly after an intense period of transformation,
he spoke in similar terms, but his mature writings make no reference to
it.
Another view, more in accordance with ancient Indian thought, is that
the PCE is indeed the goal of Yoga, and the highest experience possible
to man, but is the forerunner of complete dissolution into the Universe
that is said to take place on the death of the enlightened one. Its repeated
manifestation in life then indicates the approach of this dissolution.
If we pursue this second line of thinking, what then of an enlightened
being who incarnates again, as we assume of Krishna? Is the PCE simply
Krishna's state between incarnations, much as dreamless sleep is said
to be the state of the mystic between daytime wakefulness? Wherever these
speculations lead us, it is important to come back to the point made earlier
that the Pure Consciousness Event is not a common factor amongst mystics,
unless we equate it with dreamless sleep (more on that subject later).
Pure Consciousness Mysticism is concerned with any manifestation of the
infinite and the eternal, and clearly the PCE is such a manifestation.
But PCM is more interested in what is sustainable as a ground of being
than in any particular experience, more interested in orientation.
1.5 Ramana Maharshi
Let us look
now at another Indian mystic whose life and teachings are relevant to
some of the issues raised in this chapter: Ramana Maharshi. He was born
in 1889 to a middle-class Brahmin family in South India, showed no special
aptitude for religion and had no training in spiritual philosophy, but,
at the age of seventeen underwent a spontaneous transformation. Ramana
described the awakening in his own words.
It was
about six weeks before I left Madura [Maharshi's home town] for good
that the great change in my life took place. It was quite sudden. I
was sitting alone in a room on the first floor of my uncle's house.
I seldom had any sickness, and on that day there was nothing wrong with
my health, but a sudden violent fear of death overtook me. There was
nothing in my state of health to account for it, and I did not try to
account for it or find out whether there was any reason for the fear.
I just felt "I am going to die" and began thinking what to
do about it. It did not occur to me to consult a doctor or my elders
or friends; I felt that I had to solve the problem myself, there and
then.
The shock
of the fear of death drove my mind inwards and I said to myself mentally,
without actually framing the words: "Now death has come; what does
it mean? What is it that is dying? This body dies." And at once
I dramatised the occurrence of death. I lay with my limbs stretched
out stiff as though rigor mortis had set in and imitated a corpse
so as to give greater reality to the enquiry. I held my breath and kept
my lips tightly closed so that no sound could escape, so that neither
the word "I" nor any other word could be uttered. "Well
then," I said to myself, "this body is dead. It will be carried
stiff to the burning ground and there burnt and reduced to ashes. But
with the death of this body am I dead? Is the body I? It is silent and
inert but I feel the full force of my personality and even the voice
of the 'I' within me, apart from it. So I am Spirit transcending the
body. The body dies but the Spirit that transcends it cannot be touched
by death. That means I am deathless Spirit." All this was not dull
thought; it flashed through me vividly as living truth which I perceived
directly, almost without thought-process. "I" was something
very real, the only real thing about my present state, and all the conscious
activity connected with my body was centred on that "I". From
that moment onwards the "I" or Self focused attention on itself
by a powerful fascination. Fear of death had vanished once and for all.
Absorption in the Self continued unbroken from that time on. Other thoughts
might come and go like the various notes of music, but the "I"
continued like the fundamental sruti note that underlies and
blends with all the other notes. Whether the body was engaged in talking,
reading, or anything else, I was still centred on "I". Previous
to that crisis I had no clear perception of my Self and was not consciously
attracted to it. I felt no perceptible or direct interest in it, much
less any inclination to dwell permanently in it. [32]
Ramana had entered into a state of pure consciousness. His description
of it, generally uncluttered with technical terms, is useful for PCM:
he is describing an unbroken awareness of the centre of his being, capable
of existing as the ground to all his sensations and not overwhelmed by
them. Any aspirant on the path of awareness will know that attempts to
maintain such awareness in the supposedly ideal circumstances of formal
meditation practice, where distractions are at a minimum, is hard enough,
but to do so while reading or talking is nothing short of miraculous.
Ramana had a maturity at seventeen that was remarkable, for the onset
of his experience would have been simply frightening even for most adults.
Instead, he turned the experience into an enquiry into his nature,
an approach that became the core of his pedagogy for the rest of his life.
For some weeks after his transformation he attempted to continue the life
of a schoolboy and son to his parents. It became obvious to them that
he had changed, as he lost interest in boyish things and became indifferent
to food. Legend has it that he stole the collection after worship at the
local temple and used the money to make what was to be the last journey
of his life to the holy hill of Arunachala. His flight from family and
friends is a little reminiscent of the English mediaeval mystic Richard
Rolle, who persuaded his sister to steal his father's cape and cloak in
order to make a rough monk's habit out of it. Ramana found a cave on the
sacred hill and abandoned himself to his revelation, to the point of neglecting
his body. He is supposed to have been infested with vermin by the time
that locals began to look after him, in no doubt that he was a holy man.
Ramana's change of orientation was so sudden and so complete that we see
him becoming quite indifferent to the manifest world, to the point where
he might have died of disease or starvation. This initial period, where
he displayed no interest in disciples or teaching, gradually gave way
to a more normal life and led to a fifty-year spell of teaching the path
to self-realisation. We can say that the quality of embraciveness, initially
totally absent, asserted itself in the 'classical' form of love and compassion
for others, and expressed as a willingness to teach. Ramana's example
leads one to speculate that there must be cases of self-realisation, where
the individual becomes so wholly identified with the infinite and the
eternal that the embracive never asserts itself, and the individual (as
a body) dies. What both Ramakrishna and Ramana Maharshi show us is that
the desire to teach, or to share the blessedness of their condition, is
a basic component of the embraciveness that arises from self-realisation,
though what is of greater interest is the much broader nature of the embraciveness
shown by other mystics, including what we know of Krishna.
Ramana did not advocate renunciation in his pedagogy however, teaching
that the challenges of every-day life were to be used as raw material
for the quest for one's true identity. Although by temperament his teachings
were not explicitly devotional, he exhorted his disciples to rest in the
'cave of the heart', an ancient expression that implies both love and
silence. He also recognised that contact with genuine Masters, as opposed
to mere 'gurus' (let us be cautious about his terminology while recognising
the distinction), could bring the disciple to self-realisation more effectively
than any practice, thus acknowledging an aspect of the devotional sometimes
referred to as satsang or darshan (being in the presence
of the Master). Ramana prefers the more neutral term association:
1. Association
with Sages who have realized the Truth removes material attachments;
on these attachments being removed the attachments of the mind are also
destroyed. Those whose attachments of mind are thus destroyed become
one with That which is Motionless. They attain Liberation while yet
alive. Cherish association with such Sages.
2. That
Supreme State which is obtained here and now as a result of association
with Sages, and realized through the deep meditation of Self-enquiry
in contact with the Heart, cannot be gained with the aid of a Guru or
through knowledge of the scriptures, or by spiritual merit, or by any
other means.
3. If association
with Sages is obtained, to what purpose are all the methods of self-discipline?
Tell me, of what use is a fan when the cool, gentle, south wind is blowing?
[33]
Ramana was the cool wind and who am I? was his pedagogy. His own transformation
can be seen in terms of a radical shift of identity, from body to Spirit
(though as always in this book we prefer to be vague about the precise
meaning of this word). As a body, one is ordinarily identified with a
discrete, separate, and highly vulnerable fraction of the universe: one's
energy is used in maintaining this fiction and in anxiously dealing with
its needs, both physical and emotional, in a material and emotional world
of limited resources. With the shift in identity from the body to the
inner core of awareness the individual's investment of energy has shifted
from the finite and temporal to the infinite and eternal. "I am not
the body" sums up this shift, but as Ramana says so clearly, this
is not a dull process of thought, but a living truth. This shift, for
Ramana, seems to have taken place in the space of a few hours, and resulted
in a permanent residence in the infinite and eternal. The lack of any
peak experiences, visions, or manifest ecstasies marks Ramana's case as
a clear illustration of Pure Consciousness Mysticism. It is easier to
understand a continuum of pure awareness in which events take place, even
if one has only ever had brief moments of it, than moments of consciousness
entirely devoid of content, as Forman's PCE postulates. Unfortunately,
human nature being what it is, one tends to be more impressed by Ramakrishna's
ecstatic states of samadhi (indeed one cannot fail to be moved by even
the single photograph of him in this state) than Ramana's sober continuum.
The contrast between the two men also illustrates the difficulties that
the perennialists face in building a convincing argument that one is,
at heart, dealing with the same phenomenon. A longer acquaintance with
the lives and teachings of these two men shows however that the differences
are those of temperament and understanding. The two men came to realisation
in very different ways, one through a long period of devotional practice,
and the other through a sudden, almost uninvited shift of awareness; both
then used the inherited scriptures of their culture to describe their
condition and to teach. They illuminate their scriptures, rather than
the other way round. In the next example we look at a 20th century Indian
mystic who made little or no reference to his scriptures in over fifty
years of teaching: Jiddu Krishnamurti.
1.6 Krishnamurti
Krishnamurti
was born in 1895, some nine years after Ramakrishna died and six years
after Ramana was born, and represents, as does Ramana, the other pole
of the mystic type: one who exemplifies the path of awareness. Devotion,
gurus, love of God: all these are not part of Krishnamurti's vocabulary,
though love is his climate as with all the examples in this chapter. While
Krishna, Ramakrishna, and Ramana Maharshi are mystics firmly within a
major world religion (Krishna almost defines Hinduism), Krishnamurti is
outside of religion, and is therefore important to our reflections on
the concept of a lay mystic. Where Ramakrishna may have represented
the idol-worshipper for the 'modern' mind of Gandhi (actually Ghandi had
great respect for him), Krishnamurti would undoubtedly have represented
the iconoclast. It is not that Krishnamurti started out innocent of religion,
it is more that it was forced on him, and in particular, the occult aspect
of religion was forced on him. His later rejection of occultism is consistent
with the ideas behind Pure Consciousness Mysticism, but his dismissal
of other teachers and teachings is extreme.
Krishnamurti's mother may have had some of the presentiment that Ramakrishna's
mother had about her future child: she chose, against the explicit religious
and caste instructions regarding birth, to deliver Krishnamurti in the
puja room (shrine room) of her small house. As a child Krishnamurti was
not considered unusual in any way, but was discovered in 1909 by Charles
Leadbeater, a leading member of the Theosophical Society. His secretary
had pointed him out, but was astonished at Leadbeater's prediction that
Krishnamurti would one day be a great spiritual teacher, as he found the
boy particularly stupid. Krishnamurti was in fact practically educationally
subnormal, and even after his private education and strict training failed
to get into Cambridge University. This would come as a shock to anyone
who read his later works, or perused the conversations between Krishnamurti
and the eminent physicist David Bohm; perhaps this is a good example of
how the conventional assessment of intelligence is often inadequate. The
Theosophical Society had as its stated goal the preparation for a new
World Leader, and before long it declared that it had found it in the
person of Jiddu Krishnamurti. (This was to the disgust of Rudolf Steiner,
who then left the Theosophical movement and founded the Anthroposophical
movement.) Krishnamurti was prepared for his role through occult initiations
at the hands of Leadbeater and Annie Besant, a process that involved communications
with so-called disembodied 'Masters', and ultimately the excruciatingly
painful preparation of his body to become the vessel for the (Buddha)
Maitreya. Krishnamurti in later life had no recollection of most of these
experiences, and vigorously denied that they contributed to his illumination.
He gradually shook off the ministrations of the Theosophical Society,
and in a dramatic gesture dissolved the Order of the Star, which was the
organisation founded to support his work. He could no more shake of his
destiny than Arjuna however, and entered a life of teaching that lasted
fifty years. The teachings were his, however, and could be summed up in
one phrase: choiceless awareness.
Krishnamurti could not be in greater contrast to Ramakrishna: he was educated
(though mainly privately), sophisticated, an intellectual, and earnestly
against the whole concept of devotion, either to a living person or to
a deity. He simply jettisoned the whole of Indian religious history (as
well as all other religious apparatus) and talked for fifty years on the
pristine state of a silent mind that lives with choiceless awareness.
His emphasis on no-mind borrows nothing from the Zen Buddhists, and he
seems to have taken no interest in any mystical figure or teaching, however
similar to his own: he was reputed to read detective novels or watch Clint
Eastwood movies by way of relaxation. But his being was illuminated and
silent; others made Christ-comparisons throughout his life here are some
comments from contemporary figures:
George
Bernard Shaw called Krishnamurti "a religious figure of the greatest
distinction," and added, "He is the most beautiful human being
I have ever seen."
Henry Miller
wrote, "There is no man I would consider it a greater privilege
to meet "
Aldous
Huxley, after attending one of Krishnamurti's lectures, confided in
a letter, " the most impressive thing I have listened to. It was
like listening to the discourse of the Buddha such power, such intrinsic
authority "
Kahlil
Gibran wrote, "When he entered my room I said to myself, 'Surely
the Lord of Love has come.'" [34]
In August 1922 Krishnamurti underwent three days of a very intense and
painful experience at Ojai Valley in California, during which one of his
companions suggested that he sit under a young pepper tree in the garden,
which proved to soothe him and under which he remained for a long time.
As with many of the experiences he had in the period leading up to this
time, Krishnamurti had no later recollection of the most intense parts,
but he wrote afterwards of the period:
On the first day while I was in that state and more conscious of the things
around me, I had the first most extraordinary experience. There was a
man mending the road; that man was myself; the pickaxe he held was myself;
the very stone which he was breaking up was a part of me; the tender blade
of grass was my very being, and the tree beside the man was myself. I
also could feel and think like the roadmender and I could feel the wind
passing through the tree, and the little ant on the blade of grass I could
feel. The birds, the dust, and the very noise were a part of me. Just
then there was a car passing by at some distance; I was the driver, the
engine, and the tyres; as the car went further away from me, I was going
away from myself. I was in everything, or rather everything was in me,
inanimate and animate, the mountain, the worm and all breathing things.
All day long I remained in this happy condition.
(later in the same account:)
I was supremely happy, for I had seen. Nothing could ever be the same.
I have drunk of the clear and pure waters at the source of the fountain
of life and my thirst was appeased. Nevermore could I be thirsty. Never
more could I be in darkness; I have seen the Light, I have touched compassion
which heals all sorrow and suffering; it is not for myself, but for the
world. I have stood on the mountain top and gazed at the mighty Beings.
I have seen the glorious and healing Light. The fountain of Truth has
been revealed to me and the darkness has been dispersed, Love in all its
glory has intoxicated my heart; my heart can never be closed. I have drunk
of the fountain of Joy and eternal Beauty. I am God-intoxicated. [35]
This is one of the rare passages where Krishnamurti talked about himself,
and is typical of how mystics describe their illumination, but it is in
contrast to his later writings. The eternal and infinite are everywhere
in his teachings and writings, perhaps with the greater emphasis on the
ending of the passage of time, through the silence of the mind. Krishnamurti's
embraciveness shows in his commitment to teaching (and love is central
to this as we shall see below), but also in a more relaxed attitude to
the manifest world than shown by the previous two examples. Although he
showed moderation in material things, he did like to dress smartly, and
enjoyed sports-cars, his dogs, gardening, reading and films; his Indian
instinct for renunciation only showing itself in a vague dismissal of
human affairs such as war and politics, and a general distaste for the
coarser sides of life. His embraciveness, though not on the scale that
we are predicating for Krishna, showed another important aspect that we
shall look at in the next chapter: a love of nature.
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References
for Krishna, part Three
[16] Gambhirananda, S. (Trans.)
Bhagavadgita, with the Commentary of Sankaracarya, Ramakrishna
Vedanta Centre, 1991
[17] Raghavachar, S.S, (Trans.)
Ramanuja on the Gita, Ramakrishna Vedanta Centre, 1991
[18] Gandhi, M. The Collected
Works of Mahatma Gandhi, Vol. XLI, The Publications Division, Ministry
of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, Ahmedabad, 1970,
p.93
[19] ibid, p.99
[20] ibid. p.122
[21] ibid. p.125
[22] Gandhi, M.K. The Story
of My Experiments with Truth, Ahmedabad: Navajivan Press, 1927
[23] Rajneesh, B.S., Krishna
- The Man and His Philosophy, Oregon: Rajneesh Foundation Internation,
1985, p. 10 and p. 50
[24] Rolland, Romain, The
Life of Ramakrishna, Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama (Publication Department),
1992, p. 54
[25] M., (Trans. Swami Nikhilnanda),
The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, New York: Ramakrishna-Vivekananda
Centre, 1984
[26] Rolland, Romain, The
Life of Ramakrishna, Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama (Publication Department),
1992, p.1
[27] Isherwood, Christopher,
Ramakrishna and his Diciples, London: Shepheard-Walwyn, 1986, p.
303
[28] Rolland, Romain, The
Life of Ramakrishna, Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama (Publication Department),
1992, p. 221
[29] ibid, p. 232
[30] ibid, p. 236
[31] ibid, p. 55
[32] Osborne, Arthur (Ed.) The
Collected Works of Ramana Maharshi, London: Rider, 1969, p. 7
[33] ibid, p. 77
[34] Chandmal, Asit, One
Thousand Moons - Krishnamurti at Eighty-Five, New York: Abrams 1985,
p. 9
[35] Lutyens, M. The Life
and Death of Krishnamurti, Rider, London, 1991, p. 42
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